We Are Robin Hood
by Lady Marianne
Summary: At the end of season II, Marian doesn't try to kill the Sheriff and consequently is never taken to the Holy Land. What will happen to those who do go, and those who stay behind? And what will happen when the King finally returns? 10 chapters in total. Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, boys and girls! It's me again.**

**So, here's the deal. **

**I got the idea for this ages ago, but I never got around to writing it down. Now, as usual when I had something else to do, my muse would simply not let me go until I wrote it down. You'll notice this is a little different from my usual work in that is a multi-chapter. **

**Now, I know what you're thinking: _Really, Lady Marianne? Another multi-chapter? Have you learned _nothing _from your previous attempts at writing multi-chapters?_ Well, you can relax, since this story is all finished and waiting for me to post it (all 28991 words of it)-neat, right? So, in light of that, I'm going to ask you a small favor: like I said, the story is all done and I'm obviously going to post it regardless of what how many reviews it gets. However, it would mean the world to me if you could write me a word if you read this so I can know that I'm not just talking to myself here. It would really mean the world to me. (Come on, it doesn't need to be a _nice_ word or even a _coherent_ word. Just send me _something_). In turn, I promise to post every week.**

**PS. I do apologize for the title. I know it's been used before, but I do think it fits with the story. Also, I think it should be obvious by now that the only thing I own is a very bratty muse who only thrives under pressure -pressure to do something else, that is. Nothing related to Robin Hood whatsoever.  
><strong>

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

**SUMMARY. At the end of season II, Marian doesn't try to kill the Sheriff and consequently is never taken to the Holly Land. What will happen to those who do go, and those who stay behind? And what will happen when the King finally returns?**

* * *

><p><strong>PART I<strong>

Everything was set.

The ship had been found. The crew had been talked to. The fees had been paid. The plans had been made. All that was left now was waiting for the tide and then they would be gone.

Robin Hood waited.

It was hard to believe that it had only been a handful of months since he stood here, at the very spot, gazing at the ship that had just brought him back home after a long journey and vowed that he would never, _ever_ be in this situation again. And yet here he was, about to set sail to the Holly Lands for the second time in his life.

So much was the same as it had been before, and yet so much had changed in the last two years. For one, he wasn't Robin of Locksley anymore. That young nobleman who had come to Portsmouth looking to make a difference –maybe seeking some glory in the process, he might as well admit to that–, frustrated because the woman he loved didn't seem to understand just how important this was, had long since died –probably the moment he set foot in that desert, he thought.

He wasn't after glory either. He had the truth on his side: he was leaving because he _had to_, because he was the only one who could have any hope of saving his King and not even Marian could disagree with him this time.

That much hadn't changed, he reflected with a smile. Marian. It might be seven years later, but the fear of losing her was just as strong as it had been the first time that he had been in Portsmouth. Except that now, it wasn't his own safety he was worried about –or maybe it was, just a little bit. He wasn't afraid of not coming back to her, but rather of what he would find when he did.

She had told him the first time that she wouldn't wait for him, that, should he return, he would find her a married woman, surrounded by children, living the life he had obviously not wanted for himself. He had believed her, or at least tried to. Standing at the very spot where he was standing now, waiting for the ship to be ready as he was now, he had seriously considered the possibility of turning back and going to her. Because no amount of glory would ever compare to the joy of being around her, of holding her in his arms or running after her in Sherwood Forest. But he hadn't –he couldn't have. He had made up his mind and given his word to the King. If Marian didn't understand that... Well, maybe he ought to find himself another woman, one who saw how important his role was. And so he had left, and he had deluded himself into thinking that he didn't care about what became of Marian. But he had never given up on her completely. He had realised that as he saw her stepping out of her father's house –gloriously unattached and with no kids in sight. She had waited for him –whether she cared to admit it or not– and in that moment he knew that whatever happened, whatever came their way, they _would _be together. They were meant to be.

But it was different this time because England was different. Before, it had been their own pride that could have torn them apart. Now, there was some real evil lurking, and Marian was currently standing in the middle of the lion's den.

She would disagree, obviously. She would argue that she was perfectly safe, since the lions were currently out. But for how long? What if he failed? What if he succeeded but the Sheriff got away? What would be of her then?

And it wasn't just her that he was worried about either –that was different too. He had people now, people who counted on him to protect them, to provide for them. He couldn't simply disappear –he owed them better than that. But he couldn't go back now. There wasn't enough time –the Sheriff and Gisborne had already left, so they couldn't afford to miss this particular ship– and even if he _could _go, he knew Marian would never agree to being left behind again.

But what could he possibly do?

He cast a look around himself, as if he expected the answer to all his worries to materialize out of thin air. And that's when he saw it.

His gang.

_We are Robin Hood_, he had told them once, many months ago. He had meant it then and still meant it now. Because Robin Hood was so much bigger than himself: Robin Hood was the whole of Nottingham, every peasant that suffered from the Sheriff, every parent that didn't have enough to feed their family –_they _were Robin Hood. His gang was Robin Hood.

Robin had to go to the Holly Lands to save his king, but Robin Hood didn't. Robin Hood belonged in England.

Smiling now, he cast another look around himself, this time paying a closer attention to each of the members of his gang. He knew that he could only leave one –they would never agree to let him go alone–, so he needed to decide who was better suited for the job.

Much was the closest to him, as usual. He was getting everything ready for them, sorting their weapons and whatnot, at the same time keeping a vigilant eye on his master, should he require anything from him. Much was probably the least excited about taking this journey out the whole gang, next to Robin himself. But he would never agree to stay behind, not unless he could persuade Robin to stay too. He had decided long ago that he would follow the former master of Locksley to the ends of the world, regardless of his own discomfort. No, Much would not do.

A little bit further than Much stood Djaq, who was the polar opposite of the man. Her face was glowing with anticipation and she was practically bouncing as she talked amicably to Will. Robin knew that this was in part due to the conversation the two had shared a few hours ago and the revelations said conversation had brought, but there was something else. While all of them were going to strange lands, Djaq was going home. She would probably stay if he asked her, but he didn't think he could. She deserved to go back -he, of all people, should know what it was like being alone in a country that was not one's own, surrounded by people that looked down upon you for the colour of one's skin. He couldn't ask Will either. He would never part with her.

Allan stood the closest to the ship, trying to stay out of the way as much as possible. This was probably for the best. After all, one doesn't betray their friends and then expect everything to go back to normal when one sees fit to return, right? He had started on the right foot, what with saving their lives and tipping them off about Vaisey's trip to the Holly Land, but he still had a long way to go. The fact that he wasn't going out of his way to please everyone was a good sign: it showed that he at least understood their need to process this new development in their relationship on their own.

Robin eyed him for a moment longer. He remembered Allan's words –his reasons for doing what he had done– and he also remembered the fact that nothing overly bad had happened while he was acting as Gisborne's right-hand man. He could have easily given them away –given _Marian _away–, but he hadn't. No, Robin decided; Allan had not betrayed them so much as he had tried to save his own skin. His way of thinking was questionable, that's for sure, but he wasn't a traitor. He would trust him with his life if it came to it, but he wasn't sure he would trust him with England –at least not for now.

And then his eyes found the last member of his small group. John stood by the road that had brought them here, looking back at what they were leaving behind. He hadn't been to the Holly Land, but he had heard enough about it from Much to be dreading the journey. Robin considered John for a moment.

John was like a moral compass for them all. He was the one who was constantly reminding them of what they were fighting for, and when Robin was too caught up with his own personal agenda, John would be the one who told him to quit his antics and focus on the bigger picture. If there was one amongst them who could say that he was in on the fight purely because he wanted to help the people out, that was John Little. Everyone else had some kind of ulterior motif –revenge, money, lack of anything better to do or place to go, occasionally showing off... But not John.

He was also big enough to be able to carry most of the workload alone, and he had been in the forest for years now, so he knew it like the back of his hand. He had had his own gang before Robin's return, so he was used to making decisions and could recruit more people, should the need arise. More importantly, Marian trusted him and if he were to tell her to leave the castle, she would probably listen to him. (And, should it come to that, he could always forcefully remove her himself).

In short, John was his man.

Having made up his mind and recognising that there wasn't much time left, Robin made his way to the man that had become a sort of fatherly figure for them over the past two years. Much noticed the movement and made it to follow him, but he shook his head.

He stopped next to John and followed his gaze. They were too far away from Sherwood to really see anything, but that was not a problem, since it was all they could see in their minds' eyes.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked conversationally. "When I was a kid, I would spend as much time as I possibly could in the forest. Much always complained when he had to come and find me," he chuckled softly, remembering the times when he was young and carefree and most of his time was spent coming up with new places to hide from Much. "I never would have guessed that I would end up outlawed and living in the forest."

John smiled slightly.

"Life is funny like that," he said.

"That, it is," the young man agreed. "I wish we didn't have to go."

"It's not as if we have a choice. Vaisey is going to kill the King, and no amount of good deeds here is going to save us," the man replied sadly.

Robin smiled, pleased at the opening John had given him.

"No, _I _don't have a choice," he said, turning to face the man. "_I_ have to go. I'm the only one the King will listen to, _if_ he listens to anyone. You, on the other hand, can stay."

John frowned, clearly not catching his drift. Robin explained himself further.

"Listen, best case scenario, we go to the Holly Land, we warn the King, we stop Vaisey and we come back –that is, if we don't run into any complication, and let's face it, when have we ever _not_ ran into some sort of complication. Even then we are going to be gone for months. We have not prepared the people for our absence –they will have no idea where we went– and they will suffer. Not to mention the fact that the Sheriff has probably left some kind of system in place to torture the peasants further. Robin Hood cannot disappear like that."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you have to stay. Help people, _be _Robin Hood. That's the whole point of this whole thing, is it not? What good would it be if we stop Vaisey but half the people in Nottingham perishes in our absence? Saving the King is important, but so is _this_. You know that, you're probably the only one who gets it!"

John was silent for a moment longer. Robin could see in his dark eyes how torn he was: on the one hand, he recognised the truth in Robin's words, since he had already considered the matter himself; but on the other hand, he couldn't just stay while the rest risked their lives in a far-away land.

"We are a team," he said finally, still apprehensive.

"Yes, we are. That's why I'm asking you this. It's no different than when we separate and go to different villages, except that this time..."

"You will be going to the Holly Land," he finished. Robin nodded. "But we'll still meet back at the camp to regroup, won't we? It will take us longer, but you will still return."

The former nobleman smiled slightly.

"I'll do my very best," he replied with a cheeky grin. He was surprised when John's expression darkened and he glared angrily at him.

"No," he said with certain ferocity. "No. If we are going to do this –if you expect me to stay behind and tell Marian that you are gone (I'm assuming she played some part in your thought process, she always does), you are going to have to _swear_ that you will come back. Understood?"

Robin's expression darkened too.

"John, it might not be that simple..."

"Then you are going to have to find a way. Listen, I'll be more than happy to hold the fort while you are gone. But you need to come back. All of you. _We are Robin Hood_, remember? Your place is here."

"Djaq may want to stay. And Will will want to stay with her."

John rolled his eyes.

"Maybe, but you and Much are coming back. And Allan too –he's an idiot, but he's family. You have to promise that all three of you will do the impossible to come back or I'm getting on that ship with you to make sure that you don't do anything stupid."

Robin had to smile at this.

"Okay, fine. I'll do it. I'll get us safely back. That's a promise."

John nodded, satisfied.

"And Marian?" he asked. Robin's smiled disappeared from his face. "What should I tell her?"

"Tell her... the truth. Tell her that the Sheriff and Gisborne have gone to kill the King and that I have to try to stop them." He struggled to keep his tone light as he added: "Tell her she can murder me upon my return."

John nodded again. They were silent for a moment longer. Out of the corner of his eye, Robin could see that the preparations had begun for the ship to set sail and he felt a certain urgency gripping at his heart.

"She can't stay at the castle," he said quickly, turning to look at John directly in the eye. "She'll argue and say she's perfectly capable of looking after herself, but you have to make sure that she leaves. I don't know what sort of plans Vaisey has for her and frankly I don't care to find out. She has to go. She has a cousin in Sussex, I think. Tell her to go to her. Or tell her to join a convent. I don't care. I'll find her when I come back. But she's leaving Nottingham, is that understood? Use whatever means you see fit to take her out." John nodded. "And tell her that... Tell her that I'm sorry for doing this to her again –that I truly never intended to go back. She has to understand that, okay? Please."

"Robin!" Much called from behind them. "It's time."

Robin waved a hand in his direction to let him know he had heard, but continued talking to John.

"And tell her that I love her. That I have _always _loved her, from that day in the forest when I was fourteen and she caught me hiding her favourite hairpin and she shot one of my arrows at me... That day I knew that she was the girl for me, the only possible girl for me." He had never told anyone this, but Marian needed to know. "I've been in love with her for almost half my life. Tell her that, okay?"

"You can tell her yourself when you come back," John said, putting a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder.

"I will. But..." he trailed off, unsure of how to proceed.

"I know," the man finished.

"Robin!" Now Djaq had joined Much.

"Here," Robin said, pulling the tag Will had made for them from his neck and placing it in John's palm. "Give this to her as a reminder that she is part of the gang."

John took it and clasped his hand tightly.

"Till we meet again," he said with certainty.

"Till we meet again," Robin agreed.

And thus he left the man standing there, and walked swiftly towards the ship that was to take him away from everything he held dear.

"What about John?" Will asked him as he passed them.

"He's staying," he replied with finality.

Much opened his mouth to ask something, but closed it when he saw the determined look on his master's face. There would be plenty of time for explanations. For now they had to go.

John watched them until they were but a dot in the horizon, Robin's tag clutched in his hand. Then, once he was certain there was nothing left for him there, he turned on his heels and set out on the long journey back home.

He had a mission to accomplish.

He was Robin Hood now.

* * *

><p><strong>So? What did you think? Worth sticking around? I do hope so. <strong>

**I'll be sitting by the computer waiting to hear from you. Talk to you next week (_probably _on Monday, because there's no better way to start the week that reading a good, compelling fanfiction, right?)  
><strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**I am completely and utterly in shock. I simply cannot believe I got seven reviews in only a week -I've had stories sitting on this site for years that never got quite that kind of stats. You guys are _amazing_. Thank you. Really. Now it is my hope that all seven of you (and perhaps even some more) review again to let me know what you think of this chapter. Fair warning, it's my _least_ favourite chapter out of the ten, so even if you don't like it, please power through. I assure you it only gets better from here and I swear most of you will come to like the story in the end.**

**I have good news for you: there's a chance I won't be able to post next Monday because it's a holliday here in Argentina and I think I won't have access to a computer for the whole weekend. However, since this story has gotten a much better response than I expected, I might be able to post on Friday -or Saturday morning-, if that's okay by everyone.**

**Oh, I wanted to clear one thing with you, in case it's not clear enough in the story: in this scenario, Marian didn't try to kill the Sheriff and she wasn't caught by Gisborne either. So, to be clear, Marian's secret identity remains a secret to everyone but the Outlaws. Also, Allan betrayed the gang but he returned to them to warn them about Vaisey's plot. That much hasn't changed.**

**Keep on reading and reviewing!**

* * *

><p><strong>PART II<strong>

The journey back home was nowhere near as enjoyable as either men had imagined it would be all those months ago when they had set out on their adventure. At that time they had thought they would return covered in the glory of being the ones who had saved King Richard from a certain death –maybe even accompanied by the King himself, who would have realised upon their arrival that the situation at home was unmanageable and would have made plans to return with them. They had dreamt of walking down the familiar paths with eager anticipation, waiting for their friends to show up at every turn. But most of all, they had thought there would be more of them.

There should be five of them, not two.

Though they could say they returned relatively successful –the King was alive, and at the end of the day that's what mattered–, the things they had had to sacrifice in the process were too many to consider this latest mission of theirs a victory.

They walked slowly down the all too familiar North Road, each too immerse in their own thoughts to talk –not that there had been much talking in the months preceding this moment. Their loses hanged heavily between them, making their desire to talk almost nonexistent. Besides, the prospect of what was to come was enough to consume every other thought they may have had like wildfire, making conversation about anything an impossible task. And since none of them really felt like discussing what awaited for them in the place they both called home, silence was the only option that remained for them. The time was drawing close, however, for them to address the fact that everything was completely different now and that their paths may not be as clear as they had been before.

Still, it wasn't until they were close to their old camp that one of the men asked the question that should have really been asked much sooner.

"What now?"

So simple, yet so meaningful. What were they supposed to do now?

The other man turned his light blue eyes in the direction of his companion and gave him an odd look.

"We go to the camp, obviously," he said. "We... He has to know."

"Well yeah, I know that. I mean later. It's not just him who has to know, remember?" the first man said defensively.

The second man winced slightly. Yeah, he knew that the news they bore would have to be delivered twice.

"We go find her and we tell her the truth. Then we come back and... We keep on going."

"How can you be so cool with it? They are gone! How are we supposed to carry on without them?" the first man said angrily.

"Hey, I'm not being funny, but that's what they would have wanted! We can't let this hold us down. We have to carry on –that's what he always said, remember?"

"Carry on," the man muttered irritably, running a hand through his reddish hair, forcing the bandana he was wearing to move out of place. "It's easy for him to say it –_he_ doesn't have to do it. But what about us? How am _I_ supposed to carry on without him, eh? _How_?"

The other man walked the short distance that separated them and put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I miss him too," he reminded him. "You are not alone," he said with unusual tact.

"Well, that won't bring him back now, will it," he replied angrily, shrugging the man's hand off and reassuming his walk. But he had only taken a few paces when a rope entwined itself around his foot, forcing him from the ground.

The man yelped in surprise as he suddenly found himself hanging by his ankle, the world tilted in the most unusual angle. His companion watched in silent horror for a few seconds and then a wide smile spread across his face as comprehension dawned upon him.

"You're laughing?!" the man said angrily when his eyes found him as he struggled to break free from his binds. "It's not funny!"

"It is from this perspective," he reasoned, as he watched his friend trying blindly to reach for the rope that held him prisoner, his face turning redder and redder with every swing he took.

"Put me down!" he demanded.

"Okay, okay. I'm coming," he agreed, drawing his sword. But no sooner had he taken a step forward that an arrow came flying from somewhere among the trees, missing his nose by millimetres.

"Stop right there," a female voice commanded, stunning both men into submitting. "You shouldn't be walking down these paths –they are full of outlaws," she said knowingly.

Upon hearing her words, the man that had been left standing smiled again, clearly amused at the turn things had taken. The other man, however, didn't seem to share his good humour.

"Is this supposed to be a joke?" he said angrily, reassuming his struggle. "Put me down _right now_!"

"I will," the woman replied, emerging from the trees. She was very young –probably no more than 16 or 17– and had curly blond hair that blew slightly with the light breeze. "After we've settled a few things."

"_Settle a few things_... God! This can't be happening right now!"

"Now, now," the blonde man said to his companion. "Don't fret. The girl here is just doing her job. I'm assuming you're talking about our fee, right? What is it, a tenth of what we're carrying?" he added to the girl, who was slightly taken aback by his apparent familiarity with their process.

"Yes, unless you lie to me, in which case I'll take the lot."

"No, no. No-one is going to lie," he assured her calmly.

"I cannot believe you are enjoying this!"

"Oh, come on, you have to admit it's at least _a little_ funny!"

"You have one twisted sense of humour!"

"Okay, enough chit-chat. What's it going to be? Are you going to give me your money, or will I have to take it from you?" The girl was slightly uneasy. The people she frequently encountered usually either gave her the money or tried to fight her. These men, however, behaved with a familiarity that was completely new to her.

"I'm not going to fight you. But I will like to talk to your superior if that's alright."

"I don't..." She stammered, pretending not to know what he was talking about.

She couldn't fool him, though.

"John Little?" he pressed. "Tall, big, bushy bear... Kind of looks like a giant. I'm assuming he recruited you, am I right?"

This time the girl looked definitely surprised.

"How..."

But before she could fully form the question, loud footsteps were heard and Little John appeared from the trees.

"What is taking you so long, Kate?" he asked before noting the man standing in the middle of the road and his companion, still hanging from the tree. "Allan?" he asked incredulously, his eyes shifting from one to the other. "Much?"

"Hi there, big guy!" Allan A Dale said cheekily, his arms spreading to welcome his long lost friend in a tight embrace.

The man crossed the little distance that separated them in one large stride and wrapped the other man in a bone crushing hug.

"You're back," he stated.

"Why yes, you didn't think you would get rid of us just like that, did you?" Allan replied.

"You've missed him. He's missed you. We get it. Now, for the love of all things holly, could someone _please_ put me down!" Much complained.

John looked fondly at him, but before he could move, the dagger had already come flying, cutting the rope and sending Much to the ground.

"Thank you," he said, getting to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster. "How very kind of-" He stopped abruptly when he saw the dark figure standing just behind the girl named Kate.

Allan noticed Much's sudden change and followed his gaze, his eyes finding the source of his discomfort quite easily.

She wasn't wearing any of the pretty dresses she would usually wear when she visited, but this particular set of clothes weren't at all unfamiliar. The dark vest still bore the mark where she had been stabbed two years ago –it had been fixed, but the trained eye that knew where to look could still make it out. The long cape flew slightly behind her and the mask did not cover the icy blue eyes both men had come to know so well.

"What are you doing here?" Allan spluttered. He immediately regretted his words, obviously. This was not the way to start the conversation that was sure to come.

"I don't think you are really in the place to ask such a question," she reminded him calmly, loosening her cape and letting her dark curls fly freely behind her. "You are the ones who have been gone for the better part of the year," she added, removing the mask.

"What Allan means is..." Much interjected. "Shouldn't you be in Sussex or something?"

Lady Marian of Knighton grimaced.

"Or a convent, I heard. Yeah, as if I would ever agree to leave Nottinghamshire," she said dismissively. "It should be enough that I agreed to leave the Castle without a fight." John cleared his throat, reminding her that that wasn't actually quite true. "Okay, with only a small fight. Happy?" she turned to the man, smiling fondly at him.

But _small fight_ wasn't quite right either, John thought. The truth was that Marian had not been happy to be told that Robin had left for the Holly Land _again_ and had left instructions for her to be taken care of, as if she were some fragile little girl who needed a man for protection. She had handled just fine before he came along –better than him even.

_"Sussex?!" she shrieked when John fist told her about Robin's plans for her. "He expects me to go to Sussex?!"_

_"He expects you to be safe," he explained._

_"In Sussex. Locked away somewhere while he is off doing God knows what so that when he returns he can come back to me a hero to set me free!" _

_John smiled slightly. Of course Marian wouldn't agree to go just like that. Robin should have known better than to even suggest it. _

_"You know how he is," he reminded her._

_Marian, who up until that point had been pacing restlessly around the camp –she had gotten worried after she hadn't heard from Robin for a few days and decided to give her guard the slip so she could investigate what was going on–, stopped in her tracks and turned to look at the Outlaw. _

_"I'm not leaving," she stated simply. _

_"Never thought you would," he agreed._

_"Good."_

_She sighed and sat herself heavily on Robin's bunk, hiding her head in her hands. John went to sit next to her. _

_"I can't believe he's gone," she whispered, mostly to herself. She felt a horrible sense of déjà-vu that was making her sick to the stomach. Then again, it was different this time around: Robin had at least said goodbye when he left the first time. _

_"The Sheriff is going to kill the King. If there's anyone who can stop him, that's Robin."_

_Deep down, she knew this. After all, it had been her who had told Allan to find Robin. Of course, at the time, she had hoped the situation would have been handled in England, but on some level she had always known that it would all come to this: Robin would have to go and talk to the King –Robin would have to go back to the Holly Land._

_Still, she wasn't going to make things easy for him._

_She jumped back to her feet and reassumed her pacing._

_"He still should have told me," she said angrily. _

_"He couldn't do it, Marian. He couldn't face you again. Come on, you must have heard it from Much! Leaving the first time almost destroyed him: he didn't talk during most of the trip and he barely ate. He couldn't go through that again –he couldn't bear to hurt you again."_

_Marian winced as she thought back to Robin's tortured gaze as he came to her that night to let her know he was going. She had tried to pretend that such a look had not affected her in the least –that she was _glad_ he was in pain–, but the truth was she had never been able to erase it from her mind. Angry as she had been, scared as she had been... The pain in his eyes was something that had plagued at her during the whole of his absence and had only left her alone when she'd seen the look of utter relief that had graced his handsome features when he return. _

_No, she wouldn't have been able to handle his heartache a second time either. _

_"He just didn't want to be the one to tell me I had to go to _Sussex_," she spat the last word. "Really, what makes him think for _one moment_ that I would leave? My place is _here_, with the people. I need to fight for them."_

_"No, you need to be safe," John told her firmly, getting to his feet and capturing Marian's wrist in his hand. "Listen, Marian, the only way Robin could force himself to do this was by making sure that everything and everyone was safe during his absence: he sent me here to care for the people _and_ for you. He needs to be sure you're safe, or he'll be distracted –and we both know he can't afford to be distracted right now."_

_"He may think as he likes. _I'm not going,_" she said with finality. _

_"You're not staying either," he replied fiercely. _

_For a moment they both looked into each other's eyes, trying to will the other one into surrendering. When that didn't happen, though, Marian –who knew she was at a disadvantage if it came to a fight– came up with another plan._

_"Okay," she agreed slowly, choosing her words carefully. "I'll cut you a deal. What if I told you I can leave, but I can also stay?"_

_John furrowed. _

_"Robin is worried about _me_ –Lady Marian. He doesn't want me in the castle. Correct?" John nodded. "Suppose for a moment I agree with him that the castle is no place for me to be alone." She tried not to roll her eyes at the absurdity. "Suppose I do leave. I don't have to go to Sussex."_

_"And where would you be going?" he asked uneasily. He didn't like where this was going._

_"Here," she gestured around herself at the camp. "To Sherwood. I'll join the gang!"_

_John snorted. _

_"That's not going to happen."_

_"Hear me out first!" she said, a little desperately. "You _need_ me here. There's no-way you can handle the whole of Nottinghamshire alone. I can help you!"_

_"And how would that be keeping you safe?"_

_"Because _I_ wouldn't be here," she replied, her eyes shining with a glint not too different to the one that usually grazed Robin's eyes when he came up with a particularly outrageous plan. "The Nightwatchman is. People would never _ever_ know that Lady Marian is nowhere near Sherwood. Please, John, you have to admit it's a good plan!"_

_It had taken a while, but after much pleading and smiling and promises that she would always be safe, John had finally agreed._

_"But if you even scratch yourself, you're going to Sussex," John reminded her, passing her the tag Robin had left for her. "Agreed?"_

_"Agreed."_

"I don't understand," Kate said suddenly, breaking John's recollection. "You know these men?"

"They are friends," John stated simply.

"Oh, I'm so happy that you're back!" Marian said suddenly, dropping her daggers to the ground and rushing to give each man a tight hug. "I've missed you all so much!"

The men returned the hug a little awkwardly and muttered that it was good to be back too.

When she stepped away from Allan she took a step back and fixed her eyes on the North Road, as if she expected the rest of their party to come trotting shortly thereafter. When she realised no one was coming, she turned her attention back to the men before her.

"Where's everyone else?" she asked.

Much flinched ever-so-slightly. He had really hoped this particular subject wouldn't arise for another while –then again, it was a miracle it hadn't arisen already.

"Djaq decided she wanted to stay with her people," Allan replied, even though he knew Marian didn't really care about anyone but one particular person. "And Will decided he wanted to stay with Djaq."

"And Robin?" she pressed, her eyes narrowing. She could tell something was not right.

"Why don't we head back to the camp? I surely could eat something, couldn't you, Much?"

"Where's Robin?" she hissed, a horrible feeling gripping at her heart. Why wasn't he here? Why hadn't he come rushing to her side? Why wouldn't Much and Allan tell her?

"There was an ambush," Much explained. No use to dragging it on now, he thought defeatedly. She would have the truth out of them one way or another –he might as well tell her. He skipped the part where the King had thought Robin to be a traitor to spare her at least some of the pain. She didn't need to know exactly how much her betrothed had suffered. "-shortly after our arrival. The Sheriff had arranged for an impostor to take Saladin's place when King Richard went to meet him to talk peace. Robin found out about this, so he took the King's place."

Marian nodded, her eyes already filled with tears at the prospect of what she was about to hear. John moved closer to her, lest she falter when she heard what he suspected they were going to say.

"There was a fight," Much continued. "The impostor was easily overpowered, but there was the Sheriff and Gisborne to take into account. We tried to get the king to safety –to Acre. But they followed us. Vaisey shot an arrow at him that fortunately missed his heart but got his shoulder nonetheless. He was thrown off his horse and Gisborne was to finish the job."

The tension was palpable. Even Kate, who didn't find the tale the least bit interesting recognized the anxiety hanging in the air and didn't dare interrupting.

"Robin was the closest by a long shot, since he was ridding just behind the King. We had separated and we would have never made it in time. He saw Gisborne approaching, sword drawn, ready to deliver the fatal blow..."

"He was a bloody hero," Allan added, knowing the words meant little now, but wanting Marian to know nonetheless. She needed to know what Robin had done for England –for all of them. "To go after Gisborne, unarmed as he was... He knew he didn't stand a chance. But he saved him. Bought us enough time to get there and handle the situation. Gisborne escaped, but at least the King lived to fight another day."

"And Robin?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Djaq did _everything_ –you have to believe that. I've never seen anyone putting that much effort into anything. But the cut was too deep, and we were too far from the King's camp to get the right instruments... It was a rigged game from the start, but she fought tooth and nail to save him, he just..."

"Didn't make it," Much finished. "He just couldn't fight anymore. I am so sorry, Marian, truly..."

She shook her head to signal that she didn't care about what they told her anymore. She didn't want their pity, she didn't want their compassion. She wanted Robin.

"This cannot be happening again," she choked. "He cannot do this to me again."

She still remembered the first time he had left and how she had told him he might as well go and get himself killed for all she cared. Had he died then, she probably would have fared better than she was faring now –her own pride would have served as some sort of buffer between herself and the pain. Or at least that was what she had thought at the time –that she wouldn't mind. But even then she had known, as soon as she saw him standing by her front door, looking bewildered at her, that she never would have gotten over him if he hadn't returned. The joy and relief that had cursed through her veins during that short moment when their eyes had met and his face had broken in one of his glorious smiles had told her what she had refused to admit for five years: she was in love with Robin –she would always be in love with Robin.

Now she didn't even have her pride or the knowledge that she was in the right and he was being an idiot to hide behind. This time she was completely vulnerable and unprotected against the pain. Robin hadn't died looking for glory –Robin had died trying to make things right.

John wrapped his arms protectively against her small frame as her tears soaked the front of his shirt.

"He has to come back," she sobbed. "You said he would come back."

"I know," he said. "I really thought he would."

"I hate him," she said with finality, pushing against her friend's chest and taking a step back. "I swear I do. Do you hear that, Robin? I _hate _you," she repeated, raising her eyes to the sky. She tried grasping at every ounce of anger she had left in her body from the old days –the days before Robin claimed her heart as his–, but it was useless. Those days were long gone now. "I-" she couldn't say anything else. Her body couldn't support her anymore and she fell to the ground before the men could get to her. She sat there, completely defeated, her tears soaking the ground and her body shaking with violent sobs.

Allan took a step forward, eager to comfort her, but John stopped him. He recognised her need to get the pain out of her system.

Much, however, dodged John's outstretched arm and took a hesitant step forward. He sat himself before the woman that should have become the Lady of Locksley someday.

"I know it hurts," he said softly. "Believe me, I do. I know you are hurt and that you are mad at him and that you want to hate him. I know because I've been there too. I was... so mad at him –still am. But-" he took a deep breath and continued. "We cannot let us our pain hold us back. He... He would want us to fight in his name. He died believing that England could be saved, and we owe it to him to at least try."

Marian stared blindly at him for a moment, her mind far, far away. She remembered with painful clarity that first night after he returned from the Holly Land, how angry he had been at the state he had found Nottingham. She had called him a fool then, but she had been secretly glad at finding he cared and as he morphed into the saviour of the people –sacrificing everything in the name of what was good–, she had grown to admire him more and more.

Much was right. Even if in the inside she felt like dying, she couldn't give up just yet. She had to carry on –for him. She had to do what he could not. She had to live the life he had given up for England.

_"We find Ladner, we bring the King home and then we get married,"_ he had said a lifetime ago, in their special tree where he had attempted to propose by comparing her to his bow, next to a man they had just buried. Obviously it was too late now for the last part of that promise to come true and they had already achieved the first part. But they had never managed to bring the King back, even though Robin had given his last breath in that quest. It was up to her now –and whatever was left from the gang– to try. They would fight the Sheriff, they would hold Nottingham until the King returned. And then she would join him –but not until she had fulfilled his mission.

Slowly, so slowly that Much would probably have missed it if he hadn't been looking at her so intently, she nodded.

"Good," he said. "Good. He... He would be glad."

"He would want me safe in a convent," she pointed out, with as close a smile as she could produce under the present circumstances.

"Yeah, that too," he agreed.

"You okay?" John asked her, kneeling next to the woman he had come to care for like his own daughter.

"I'll live," she replied, whipping violently the tears from her eyes.

The man helped her to her feet and together they led the way back to their camp.

As they walked, it was explained to those who had just arrived that Kate was a peasant from Locksley who had found herself recently outlawed and had been welcomed into the gang. They were also told that young Luke Scarlett was too a new member, having arrived back at Nottingham shortly after their departure. He was away at Nottingham doing some reckoning, Marian informed them.

The camp looked just as it had when they had left it. Much's eyes filled with tears when he spotted his master's old bunk and some of his old clothes hanging from the chest at the foot of the bed, but he said nothing.

"You still have your old places," John informed them. "We had planned to ask Will to build more beds when you all returned, but I don't think it's necessary now."

"It's still six of us," Much whispered. "Different six, though."

The three original outlaws and Marian nodded their heads in silent acknowledgment.

"I'd like to propose a toast," Allan said suddenly, eying greedily the jar of ale that rested on a nearby table. Such statement was readily agreed upon, and soon four mugs had been poured (since this was a private moment between those who had known and loved Robin, no-one thought of including Kate).

"To Robin of Locksley," Allan said, raising his mug. "The best leader and friend one could have hoped to have."

"To the best master and brother," Much agreed fervently, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he raised his own mug.

"To my soul-mate," Marian whispered softly, clutching the tag John had given to her months ago, which she wore around her neck, next to her engagement ring.

"To Robin Hood," John stated, and the sentiment was echoed by the other three.

After they had had a sufficient amount of ale in their systems, Much announced that he had something for Marian.

The woman eyed him curiously as he dug inside the bag they had brought with them and produced three items, which he placed neatly before her. She had no trouble recognizing Robin's weapons.

"He would want you to have them," he explained as she started wide-eye at Robin's most prized possessions. "Think of them as his way of protecting you from wherever it is he is."

Marian listened with half an ear as she took Robin's bow reverently. It was the same bow with which he had taught her to shoot when they were kids, the same bow he was rarely seen without. The quiver, which Much had laid next to the bow, still held some of Robin's trademark arrows –he'd never told her why they were special, just that they were different from any other arrow she could ever get her hands on. She reached out and gently caressed the goose feathers at the end, shivering as she imagined him doing the same thing.

The last item on the table was Robin's sword. He had acquired the sword upon one of his first travels to London, when he was but twelve years old. He had been really excited about it, and had come straight to Knighton to show it to Marian and maybe practise for a while. But Marian wasn't a suitable rival for him, he had soon learned, being too young still to have any real ability with a sword. He had turned to Much then, and he had used him as his partner while Marian watched with interest.

"You know what?" she said suddenly, grabbing the sword by the handle and offering it to Much. "You should take it."

Much was surprised.

"What?"

"You are much better than me with a sword, and I'm certain Robin would want you to have it. It's only fair; he tortured you with that thing for years!"

Much just stared at the sword for a long while, until Marian finally pushed it into his hands.

"My lady, I don't know what to say..."

"Say you will use it like Robin would," she replied. "There won't be any meaningless bloodshed, understood? The principles Robin stood for are the principles we shall stand for. We fight for the people, but we don't kill for the people. There has already been enough death around here."

"We are Robin Hood," John held, raising his mug again.

"We are Robin Hood," Marian agreed.

Luke returned some time later and though he was a little sorry that his brother was not of the party that had returned from the Holly Land, he was generally happy that at least Allan and Much were back (_"The more the merrier,"_ he had said as he hugged the newcomers). He offered his condolences to Marian and meant it when he said he would help making sure Gisborne paid for his actions.

He had spent the whole day at Nottingham gathering information. Apparently the Sheriff and his lieutenant were back, though keeping a low profile for the time being. Word of Robin's death hadn't gotten out yet, but Luke had heard of a certain event being organized for some time in the near future and he ventured a guess that that was the moment when they planned to announce of their apparent success.

"What do you want to do?" Kate asked Marian once Luke was done.

Marian didn't immediately replied, her eyes and attention fixed upon the two items hanging around her neck. She held them tightly for a moment, gave them a gentle squeeze before tucking them back under her vest.

"We show the Sheriff that Robin Hood is not dead," she replied firmly.

A plan was starting to form in her mind.

Well, she amended with a smile. Half a plan.

* * *

><p><strong>Please don't kill me.<strong>

**PS. Remember when I said the story was **28991 words long? Well, we've crossed the barrier of the 30 000 now (30 249!) There's a reason why I prefer one-shots -I don't feel the need to constantly re-read them and add things.****


	3. Chapter 3

**You guys are _amazing_. No, that doesn't even begin to cover it. You are... I don't know what you are, but I love you. I swear, I do. I love each and every one of you and if we ever met, I would give each and every one of you a hug. I am completely in awe for the response I've been getting for this story. It makes me wonder whether I should kill beloved characters more often if that's all it takes to get reviews.**

**Now, since you all are so great, I decided to show my appreciation posting this chapter much sooner than I had planned. I also decided not to listen to that little voice in my ear that told me to add a chapter to toy with your emotions for a while longer. So yes, you'll have a definitive answer to the question of whether I've killed Robin permanently or not (I find it very amusing that most of you seem to think I did).**

**I think I've answered all of your reviews, but in case I've missed anyone, know that I'm very thankful. Also, I wanted to give a special thanks to Francois de Mazancourt and Silent Fan who noticed that I had a spammer the other day and offered me their kind words in support. I couldn't reply to you privately, but I hope you read this now. (By the way, does anyone know how to delete reviews? I tried reporting it to fanfiction, but nothing seems to be happening yet). Also, I would like to dedicate this chapter to Amaranthe Athenais and Candygirl12, with whom I've been exchanging the funniest messages these past few days (well, at least I've been having fun, probably because I'm evil), as well as Flowerbird, Art Counterclockwise, EmiliaLKnight, Tearful Scarlett, Robin Hood Reader and Elaine Weasley. I sincerly hope you decided to stick around for a while longer. Also, I noticed I have to anonymous reviewers. Two things to them: first of all, thank you so much for your reviews; secondly, my email is displayed in my profile; should you feel like asking me anything about this story, you can write to me there. Or I can reply to you in the next chapter, as you prefer.  
><strong>

**And now, without further ado, I present you chapter III of _We are Robin Hood_. Let me know what you think. I'm dying to hear from you.**

* * *

><p><strong>PART III<strong>

Green.

Everything was green. The grass was green. The trees were green –barks and all. Even the sky had a certain greenish undertone that he hadn't seen anywhere but here.

He didn't mind. He liked the green. Green was life. Green was freedom.

Green was home.

He stood as closed to the forest as he dared –any closer and he may not be able to stop himself– his eyes focused on his surroundings, but his mind far, far away, deep in the heart of Sherwood, where he _hoped_ at least three men were getting ready for supper.

He smiled fondly as he pictured them with his mind's eyes, sitting together in that little clearing where they had set up camp, talking about the events of the day and coming up with new ways to further annoy Sheriff Vaisey. It took all of him not to take that one step forward that would put him on his way to them. Sadly, it had been him who had suggested they kept a low profile, avoiding not only the main roads and towns, but also Sherwood Forest for as long as they could manage (something that had been deemed really smart and readily agreed upon by all the members of his party) so he of all people couldn't suggest a change of plans now.

Sometimes he hated being a good soldier –hated knowing exactly what course of action was best. At this moment he wanted nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and run. Run and run and run and then...

Be home.

He wanted to go home.

The woman moved lightly, and if he hadn't been half expecting her, he might not have heard her.

"I'm not going to go running to them," he said, guessing that she had come to check on him. He may fool a lot of people, but he had never fooled her. She could read him like a book –she was actually one of the few who could, actually.

"I know you're not," she replied matter of factly. Yes, she knew him, so she knew he would eventually do what was best for those under his protection. It was one of the reasons why he had left in the first place. "It was you who said it would be a bad idea to draw attention to ourselves when we are so close to home."

He closed his eyes, marvelling at the sound of that simple word. _Home_, he was actually coming home.

During the weeks and months of his fight against the most vicious enemy he had ever had to fight, he had come to fear that he would never return home –that he would never make it out alive. There had been times when drawing a simple breath had been a struggle, and he had wondered during those times whether that was how he would finally meet his maker. His body had certainly wished for it –for death. Every inch of him hurt and he felt a fire spreading from somewhere down his middle section in every direction. Giving up then would have been so easy...

But he hadn't. The memories of what he had left behind –of the trees and the ponds, of his friends and family, of all the promises he had made and never lived up to... His whole life would flash before his eyes during the brief periods of time where he was coherent enough to understand what they meant and they had given him the strength he needed.

And so he had fought.

He had fought against the pain.

He had fought against the fever.

He had fought against the infection.

He had fought against his own terror of what he would find, should he ever be strong enough to return.

He had fought. And he had won.

He had survived.

And now here he was.

_Home_.

Well, almost.

"Why are you here then, if not to remind me of the risks of yielding to my most dangerous desires?"

"I thought you would appreciate the company," she replied. "Sometimes it's good to talk about what it is that it's bothering you, so your good friend can tell you that you're being ridiculous."

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm not being ridiculous," he snorted. He had every right to be worried. In fact, he would argue he was taking the whole thing rather well, considering the circumstances...

"You're thinking that maybe they aren't there anymore –you're being ridiculous," she replied petulantly, showing once again her uncanny ability to read what other people were thinking.

She was right, of course. That was exactly what he was thinking –at least on some level.

The question of what he would find when (if) he returned was one that had been tormenting him for weeks now. He had been away for so long and the circumstances under which he had left had been so terrible... With all his heart he wanted to go home, and yet he wasn't sure he still had a home to go back to –a family to welcome him back.

"You can't be sure," he reminded her through gritted teeth.

"I suppose you're right. Maybe Vaisey had a sudden change of heart and pardoned them for all their crimes," she said, pretending to consider his words.

"They can be dead," he argued, ignoring her humour.

"Even less likely. In case you have forgotten, it was usually you who got in trouble and us who had to rush to save your ass. If anything, I dare say they are safer now."

He smiled despite himself. She did have a point...

"Still, things change. Like it or not, we have to be ready for the possibility of them being gone," he said firmly, forcing the words out of his mouth.

The woman rolled her eyes and spun so that she was facing her friend.

"You survived a wound that could have been fatal –that _should_ have been fatal. You made it through a trip that killed many men stronger than you. It's okay to be hopeful, you know?" she reasoned, once again reading between the lines for the true source of his discomfort.

"I've tried being hopeful before. It didn't work out."

"Listen, I could live with your dark mood on the ship because I thought you were scared," she snapped finally. She had had to watch him for days now as he sulked and put a damper on everyone else's good mood. She finally could take no more. "But this has got to stop now. You are here. You are _alive_. You brought your King back. You're about to defeat your worst enemy. You have friends that will be over the moon to see you. You have a woman who has agreed to marry you who will be –well, she will probably be furious at you, but she will be happy too, I imagine. It's _okay_ to be happy!"

He almost snorted as he heard her mention the woman he loved. She, of all people, would be the least excited to see him. He should know. They had been in this situation once before.

But her words did bring back others. Words he had uttered a long time ago –a whole lifetime ago.

_"We find Lardner, we bring the King home and then we'll get married_,_" _he had said confidently. Everything had seemed so simple then. Could he dare believe that everything would be that simple?

No, he couldn't.

Things were never simple for the two of them.

"Let's agree to disagree," he said, effectively putting an end to their argument.

The woman rolled her eyes again and muttered some kind of curse in her native Arabic.

"Was there anything else you wanted?" he asked when he realised she wasn't going away.

"Not really. I just needed to get out of the house. The way some of your friends are looking at me gives me the creeps."

He looked down at her a little more fondly this time. She was here for him, after all. Regardless of what happened in the next few days, he still had her and that alone should have prevented him from being too harsh on her. He really couldn't afford to alienate any more of his friends, he reminded him.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this. I feel as if I'm the reason why you couldn't stay at your home."

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," she told him with a smile. "I would have come back with or without your involvement, though I'll admit it's been easier this way. It's almost been worth putting up with your dark mood."

"But your family... I would have thought..."

"You are my family now –and the lads. This," she gestured towards the forest "is where I belong. Had I seen it sooner, I probably would have saved Allan and Much some of their heartache. Then again, I _did_ save your life, so maybe it's a good thing I decided to give the desert a try, wouldn't you agree?"

The man looked down at his belly, where he could clearly feel his scar throbbing.

"Yeah, probably," he agreed with a small smile.

Footsteps were suddenly heard and they both turned in time to see their friend and travel companion making his way towards them.

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you. For a moment I thought..."

"I wasn't going to go into the Forest," the man complained loudly. Honestly, did people think he was _that_ stupid? He had _some_ self control, after all.

The other man ignored him and addressed the woman.

"He's still in a bad mood? Shouldn't that be over by now? He is home, after all..."

The woman shrugged.

"You two are a match made in heaven," the man muttered mostly to himself.

"Actually, I never doubted your abilities to stick to a plan you yourself designed. I was actually looking for you because he has asked to see you. He wants to go over the plan again."

This immediately lightened the man's mood. Because worried as he was, the fact remained that he was a soldier. And soldiers _need_ to be doing something. The last couple of days spent in an abandoned house in the outskirts of Sherwood Forest had been almost as nerve-wreaking as the weeks preceding it, spent idly on a ship. Even though he had gone over the plan time and time again, going over it again was actually the best idea he had heard all day.

"See, things are looking up already!" the woman said, noticing his sudden change in humour. He promptly ignored her and started making his way back to the house, his two friends following closely behind.

They found the man they were looking for in the main room of the house, where he had spent much of the last week examining maps and letters and other kinds of documents.

"Oh, there you are," he said with the familiarity born from months spent in close proximity. Besides, they had tried to keep a low profile –to keep people from finding their real identity. Marching on with all the pomp and circumstance fit for a King would have kind of defeated the whole purpose of their journey. "I wanted to go over everything with you one more time. The time is drawing close, and I would really prefer if things went smoothly. We don't exactly have the upper hand when it comes to quantity," he gestured around the room, where only six people –all of them handpicked by King Richard himself, both for their loyalty and their skills– stood besides the four of them.

"Do not underestimate to importance of the element of surprise," he said calmly. "Half of Vaisey's guards will be too stunned to do much damage and I'm pretty certain at least a few of them still have some sort of moral compass that will prevent them from attacking their own King. Numbers shouldn't be a problem," he reasoned.

"What do you anticipate _can_ be a problem?"

"Gisborne. He's unpredictable under the best of circumstances. When he realises..." he paused, distracted by the image of Guy's face upon realising that the man he had claimed to have killed was very much alive and riding into Nottingham with King Richard, of all people. "Well, he won't be thinking straight, and that could be dangerous."

"And the Sheriff?"

"It will depend. If he senses he's losing the upper hand, he'll probably try to cut his losses and pin everything on someone else –possibly Gisborne. But he won't go down without a fight, so I suggest you instruct your men to focus first and foremost on him. I'll handle Gisborne," he tried to stay calm, but his eyes shone with a dangerous light as he said the last bit.

"Very well. I've gotten word that a ship with fifty of our men has recently docked at York. They should be arriving in Nottinghamshire in two days time through the north. That is to say, Saturday in the afternoon."

"On Sunday morning, once we're certain that they are in position, you will make your entrance. The courtyard is always pretty full on Sundays of people that go to Nottingham from all over the shire for mass. There will be an audience, which is actually kind of perfect," he added with glee.

The more people knew the truth, the harder it would be for Vaisey to escape. And the sooner all of this would be over.

"Ideally, the Sheriff will surrender the town then and there. If, however, that is not the case –and you're pretty adamant that he will put up a fight– we will signal our friends and they will come to help. Is that correct?"

"Yes, that's exactly what we've talked about."

The King nodded and looked down at his documents once again, deep in thought. The man waited. Over the years under his service, he had forged a close relationship with the King of England, so close, in fact, that he had come to know him almost as well as he knew himself. That's how he picked up on the fact that the sovereign wasn't entirely pleased with the whole plan. And so he waited for him to say something, ready to put his mind at ease.

"Listen, you know I trust you. You've given me more than ample proof of your loyalty. But I still have to ask. Sixty men in nowhere near enough force to take down a Sheriff, especially not one as cunning as this was seems to be. Are you sure you are thinking with your head and not your heart? Because I know what it feels like being away from home, but I need to make sure that you understand that the stakes are much higher than your own personal wishes. If you say you're sure, I'll believe you. But bear in mind that there's another ship coming, which should be here in a couple of weeks. I ask of you to be honest with yourself: do you really think sixty men are going to be enough or wouldn't we be better off waiting until our numbers were a little bit more respectable?"

He was slightly offended that his motives were suspected. After all, he had as much on the line as everyone else here –possibly more so. This was _his _town, these were _his _people. This was, in short, _his _fight. So of course he was ready. He was _so _ready.

He knew better than to say anything out loud, fearing his confidence would be mistaken with cockiness. It had happened before, and the last thing he wanted was the King to have a sudden change of heart because of him. So he tried to explain, as calmly and as rationally as he was capable of, what in his mind was already very clear.

"Like I said, were we sixty men or six hundred, it's not going to make a difference because at the end of the day it's not going to be our numbers that will make the Sheriff surrender. I don't even think there's going to be much of a fight, and even if there was, sixty of the King's men are more than capable of taking down Vaisey's whole army –they are not trained as we are; they don't really stand a chance. Besides, we are already too close to Nottingham and every moment we spend in the little cottage we risk getting caught. Leaving wouldn't be wise either, for we would risk someone seeing us. At this point, I think turning back would do more harm than good."

The King listened to him in silence and nodded his head in approval when he was done. He really trusted his young commander –one of the reasons why he had held off the trip until he could join them– and if he was being overly cautious it was because he knew of the man's tendencies to act impulsively and wanted to make sure this was not one of those cases.

If there was one man in the whole wide world who deserved a happy ending, that was the man standing before him. King Richard wanted to make sure he got it. It was the least he could do for the young man who had saved his life twice now.

"Very well. If you're sure then..."

"I am," he paused for a moment considering an idea he had been pondering over for a few days now. This seemed like a good time to bring it up. "If, however, you're still uneasy, there's something else I would like to run by you."

The King looked curiously up at him. He knew that they young nobleman's ideas, though sometimes a little unorthodox, generally worked for the better.

"You have my attention," he said.

"My men," the young man stated simply. Behind him, the woman snickered. Of course his friend would bring this up. "They can help us out."

"I doubt three men are going to make much difference," the King reasoned kindly.

The young man leaned forward, his green eyes sparkling with excitement as they always did when he talked about his friends.

"It's not just any three men. They know Nottingham better than anyone here –they could provide us with a way out, should we need one. At the same time, Vaisey is not going to be able to make a run for it if he has the Outlaws after him. They are exceptional fighters, and as you said we could use some more soldiers. Besides," he added, getting to the real reason behind his sudden plea, "-they've devoted the last three years of their lives to this cause. They should be there to see it through the end." For a moment he imagined what would happen if the Outlaws were to hear the news in Locksley on somewhere else and realised that after everything they had done, everything they had given for King Richard, they had still been left in the dark. They would be furious –rightfully so.

Richard the Lionheart thought about what the man had said for a long while. Sensing his conflict, one of the men at the end of the room leaned forward and whispered:

"Surely, your majesty, you cannot be considering..."

"Actually, I think I am."

"But they are outlaws!"

"Who are probably more loyal to me than half of my so-called nobles," he reasoned. They had travelled to the Holy Land to warn him about the plans to assassinate him. How many of his nobles had done that? "Okay, you win. How do you suggest we tell them?"

The young man smiled, relieved. They would be there. They would deal with Vaisey and Gisborne together and then they would _all_ go home. Together; they would be together soon. (That is, if they remained in Sherwood, which he still wasn't sure about).

"Djaq can go," Will replied from behind him before he could say anything. He was eager to get her out of the way of the English soldiers for a while –they both were. Though they had acted civilly enough around her when King Richard was nearby, the fact that she was a woman and a Saracen had them a little on edge and after months of travelling in close quarters, that uneasiness was starting to morph into something potentially more dangerous. Getting her out of the way for a few days was actually a good idea. The other guard seemed even more upset than he'd been before, but wisely chose not to say anything, lets the King take offence at his impertinence.

"Very well. Tomorrow at first light, Djaq shall go to the Outlaws camp and let them know of our plan. You shall stay with them all through Saturday to make sure they carry on their customary tasks as usual. Vaisey mustn't suspect a thing. On Sunday morning, you will go with them to the Courtyard, where you will wait for us."

Djaq nodded her head politely.

"Very well. You should all get some rest now. We have a couple of intense days waiting for us."

With those words, the three friends took leave from the King and went back to the spot where they had stood a few hours ago.

"What should I tell them?" Djaq asked her friend once they were alone.

"Tell them that the King is back and that he needs their help. Also, tell them to blend in with the people in the Courtyard, but not to go out of their way to do so. It would actually be good if Vaisey saw them there –he'll be distracted and won't expect us," the man replied, automatically jumping into planning mode.

"That's not what I meant," the woman explained. "I meant about you. Should I tell them Robin Hood is alive?"

He thought about it for a moment. Though a large part of him wished to have the weight of his apparent death lifted from his shoulder, it was true that he couldn't tell them –not yet. He closed his eyes and imagined Much's ashen face as he learnt that his friend was alive and well, and waiting but a few miles from him. He'd never wait quietly –he would want to come, to see for himself. (He would also probably want to kill him, but Robin refused to dwell on that for the time being). It would be dangerous for all of them.

"No," he sighed. "Not yet. I think the shock of seeing you again is going to be enough for one day. They'll learn the truth on Sunday, along with everyone else," he added with a smile.

"You have to go for the drama, don't you?" Will muttered, bringing a small smile to his friend's face.

The night dragged for Robin and his friends. They didn't sleep, though it was true that they really ought to be well rested before Sunday, but they were too excited to close their eyes. Just before dawn, Djaq deemed it clear enough to start her journey.

She gave Will a light peck on the lips and received a tight hug from Robin, who imagined himself hugging each and every one of his friends in that one embrace.

"I'll see you all on Sunday," Robin called after her, his heart lighter than it had been in months.

It would all be over soon.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, everybody relax now. Breathe. <strong>

**Be honest. Did you really think I would kill Robin? _Really_? Come on, people, it's Robin! Who could possibly kill the main character on a show? Oh, wait, I know. The BBC. Well, aren't you lucky that I'm not the BBC? I don't kill my characters -I bring them back after some idiot decided to kill them in their original show/movie/book (or their significant other, for that matter).**

**Also, in case anyone cares, this story is now 31 116 words long.**


	4. Chapter 4

**So, it's been recently brought to my attention that I've made a 12 year old girl cry for an hour with my story. Oops. I'm sorry. I truly am. I'm a really sweet person in real life and I take no pleasure in causing other people pain -I swear. So sorry, CandyGirl12's daughter -and everyone else who's hearts I've been carelessly toying with. I'd say I won't do it again, but the story is not over yet, so I can't promise anyone that their favourite character is going to make it out alive -yes, that means that people are going to die and I'm not kidding this time. Again, sorry. If you want to blame someone, blame my muse. She made me do this. **

**I haven't gotten around to answering all of your reviews and PMs from the last time because I've had a pretty busy couple of days. (I don't tell people I write fanfictions, so it's also been hard replying to all of you without raising a few eyebrows). But I've read all of them (as annoying as I used to find my ringtone for when I got an email on my phone, I'm actually starting to love it) and I will get to replying to them ****momentarily, so don't worry. **

**Nemascena said something in her (I'm assuming you're a she) review I had already noticed but forgot to mention before. When I started writing this story, I was going by what I remembered from the show, without bothering to check some things. But then I did and I realised that Robin's sword was a scimitar, hence he couldn't have bought it in London. Since I'd already written the part where Much gets to keep the sword based on the fact that Robin had used it on him as kids, I decided to leave it like that. Call it a creative license if you liked, kind of like when the BBC decided to give a Saracen bow rather than a Longbow, like in the legend (_see?_ I did do _some_ research). I hope it's not to much of a problem.**

**You should also know that there is going to be a chapter that it's entirely a flashback, so you are going to learn more about Robin's miraculous survival then. You are also going to find out about what happened to Carter, for those of you who asked. As you may have noticed by now, this story has a pretty weird timeline -we skip ahead a few months but then we also learn about what happened during those months we've skipped over because I tell you. That's not because I'm making stuff up as I go, but rather my style of writing. I do hope it's not to confusing. **

**Last by not least -because I'm starting to realise that this author's note is exceedingly long, even by my standards-, I wanted to apologise because I had a dumb blonde moment the other day (I'm a blonde, so I can say that). One of my earliest reviewers tried to tell me that I kept writing "Holly" instead of "Holy". I told her I understood, thanked her for pointing it out and told her I would fix it. But I didn't, because I couldn't see the mistake. Only later did I realise I was writing an extra "L" and when I did, I felt really embarrassed. I'm sorry; really, I am. But now it's _really fixed_, I swear.**

**Well, I leave you to this then. I hope my lack of manners don't keep you from leaving more of those wonderful reviews you've been leaving so far. I reply to all of them in due time.**

* * *

><p><strong>PART IV<strong>

She moved swiftly along the familiar paths, smiling every time her eyes detected a new trap. Though unlike Robin she had never once doubted their friends' ability to carry on without them, she had to admit that finding hard proof of their latests endeavours was a relief.

She had missed them dearly.

Looking back, she was a little surprised that she had ever thought she didn't belong here. Sherwood was everything the desert was not: Sherwood was life, Sherwood was diversity, Sherwood was freedom.

It was ironic that she had had to get here to be sold as a slave.

She had to admit that her first stay on English soil was much more pleasant than she had thought it would be. Of course that was in no small part due to the friends she had made. Fighting alongside Robin and his Outlaws, she had felt like she was a part of something bigger for the first time since her father's death. But a nagging feeling had remained at the back of her mind, constantly reminding her that this was not her place.

When the opportunity to go back home had presented itself, she had taken it without hesitation.

She had made it through all of one month before the feeling of uneasiness returned, louder now than it had ever been.

Because, she had soon realised, she didn't belong here anymore. This was Safiya's place and she wasn't Safiya anymore. She was Djaq, and Djaq belonged in the forest.

Djaq was part of Robin Hood.

Will's expression of relief as she told him she wanted to go back had possibly been one of the funniest things she had ever seen. He would have stayed for her, but he clearly missed his home.

And so did she.

She soon reached the clearing that housed their camp, but instead of pulling on the lever, which would certainly result in at least one of them waking up, she took a sharp right, walked a few feet deeper into the forest until she found a small trapdoor concealed under a pile of leaves and small rocks. Will had confessed to her a few weeks ago that upon realising that Allan had betrayed them, he had decided that their camp needed an emergency exit, lets their former friend yield to Gisborne's persuasion and give them away. He hadn't told anyone, but he had built another way in and out of the camp, just to be safe.

It was through this entrance that she made her way, not wishing to disturb them while they slept. Well, at least not for now.

They were there -all three of them. No one was keeping guard because they all trusted the protection provided by Will over a year ago –that had been one of the purposes of their new lair and the alarm system around it; to keep them hidden and safe, without the need to be constantly on edge. It had allowed them to relax for a little while –_almost _like a home.

She stood in the middle of the camp and glanced around herself, her eyes taking every detail in.

John slept on his side, a peaceful smile barely visible through his beard. Much was on his stomach, snoring loudly and muttering unintelligibly from time to time. Allan lay on the hammock he had procured for himself from some place or another, his arms wrapped around his torso.

She smiled widely as she imagined their faces when they awoke and found her there. Surely, they must have thought they would never see her again, especially not this soon.

Much and Allan had been surprisingly supportive when she informed them of her decision to stay in Acre. Then again, they had had some warning. Robin had guessed she wouldn't be coming back even before they left England and had teased her about it occasionally on the ship as they made their way. The others had heard too, and while they hadn't been particularly happy and hoped she changed her mind soon (especially Much, who hated the idea of breaking up the gang), when the time came, they accepted her decision with no complains.

Besides, neither of them had had the heart to fight about anything.

Those first days in Acre after Robin's death had been hard on everyone. They stayed the first night at the King's camp –their half-felt complains hadn't been heard at the time; the King was determined to keep an eye on them, the least he could do after everything they had gone through, he had told them. They had managed to leave for Bassan's the following morning, intending to stay for a few days until they could sort things out. Much, however, couldn't even make it through the first night. He wanted to leave, he told them; he couldn't be there anymore. He hated everything about that place –the sand, the heat. He hated that Gisborne was probably already on his way back to England. He hated that they had come here at all when they first did and even more than he had come back again.

But most of all he hated Robin.

He loathed that Robin had still tried to save Richard, even after he had left them in the desert to die. He hated that his master had lost his sword fighting one of Vaisey's allies and that in his rush to get to the King before the Sheriff got to him he hadn't bothered to pick it back up. He despised himself for not being there for Robin, like he _should have been_. For not helping him when he needed him.

He hated that he was dead.

He had died and Much really couldn't stay there for another minute because if he did, he would go back to the desert, dig Robin up and he would kill him again. That's how angry he was.

He had left with Allan the very next day.

Neither Will nor Djaq had fared much better, but she at least had taken some comfort in the company of her pigeons and he in hers. Still, the news brought by Bassan that Richard's men were looking for them had been a welcomed distraction.

They would be furious at her when they learnt that she had let them believe Robin to be dead for this long, but really, it's not as if she had had a choice. They had tried to reach them before they left, but Will hadn't gotten to the port on time. Also, it's not as if she had really held any real hope that Robin would recover –not for many weeks at least. She had told herself that giving them false hope would be much worse than keeping the truth from them; that she couldn't let Much believe for even a second that _maybe_ not everything was lost yet. Robin would still probably die and Much and Allan would never need to know about the pain he had gone through. No, it would be her burden to carry –and Will's.

But Robin had not died. He had survived and he had come back home.

And now Djaq would have to tell them the truth.

It's not as if she was disappointed or anything. The fact that Robin was alive was a sheer miracle and she couldn't wait for the world to know about it. She didn't regret her actions either –losing Robin once was bad enough, losing him twice would have been irreparable and she was glad that her friends' hadn't had to face that prospect. Still, it's one thing to be in the right and a whole other to make people _understand_ it. Robin would vouch for that. Many months of his life had been spent trying to sway Marian to see things his way. Much certainly would argue against her as much as Marian ever did. And Allan wouldn't be too happy either.

Maybe she could attempt to cook them breakfast as a sign of goodwill? It would be nowhere near enough to make up for all the months of heartache (especially with her skills in the kitchen), but the thought ought to count for something, right?

She had made up half her mind when her eyes turned instinctively to her old bunk and was shocked to find a petite figure lying on top of it. She looked at Will's and, sure enough, there was a man sleeping there too.

It took her a moment to understand what this meant: not only was Robin Hood still standing, they were also going strong -they were even recruiting people.

The original Robin Hood would be proud.

And speaking of the original Robin Hood...

She wasn't as surprised to find the woman sleeping on Robin's old bunk as she was annoyed at herself for not thinking of the possibility that she might be there. Lady Marian was not one to stay in the sidelines while everyone else fought, so of course she wouldn't have gone to Sussex or wherever it was she was supposed to have gone. Djaq should have known better.

_Robin_ should have known better.

Djaq frowned when she pictured the fit her friend would certainly throw when he learned that while he had thought her safely away from the fight, Marian had been right in the middle of it all, risking her life in _his_ name. What hope she had held of her friend's mood improving anytime soon was extinguished then.

Her eyes caught the dark mask lying on the table and she relaxed a little bit. Perhaps it was the Night Watchman that was out wrecking havoc and Marian's good name remained untainted. That would be slightly preferable –or at least Marian would argue that, when the time for confrontation came, for she was certain there _would _be a confrontation.

And what a confrontation would that be!

She realised she should let them rest –she knew the best thing would be to stay put until they began to stir and let them find her there. But she must have been spending way too much time with Robin, because as she considered the possibility of letting things run their course, all she could hear was his voice saying: _"And where would be the fun in that?"_

Much's pans were very at hand –if he had put them away the night before, then maybe she wouldn't have yield to her most childish ways. As it was, she simply couldn't resist.

She grabbed the small cauldron Much used for cooking and a silver tray that had been left nearby for some reason and then, standing close to Allan's hammock –she had always enjoyed teasing with Allan; he had reminded her a little of her brother, who she still missed terribly–, she banged them together.

There was a loud thud as the Outlaw rolled over and fell heavily to the ground. But he wasn't the only one who was startled by the sudden noise. Much's head jerked up and he muttered incoherently as he searched blindly for his weapons. John, on the other hand, seemed to have been stunned into complete paralysis.

Marian and the two new guys fared a little better, since they at least managed to get out of bed and grab their weapons with a small amount of dignity. They still looked pale and scared, though. At least until they heard her laugh.

It was Marian who recognised her, obviously. She was the only one out the four who _could _have recognised her that still had enough wits about herself to notice that this was not one of their enemies, but a really close friend –the last friend they would have expected to find here, but still a friend.

"Djaq?" She breathed incredulously, lowering her bow slightly so she could take a closer look at their visitor.

The woman could only nod as struggled to catch her breath, which was a much bigger task than she anticipated.

"Djaq is here?" Much muttered, looking around himself, sleep still clouding his mind.

"What are you doing here?" John asked, trying to get to his feet.

"I bring news," she stated, bending to help Allan untangle himself from the mess that had become his blankets.

"News from the Holy Land?"

"News from England," she amended, looking at Marian, who had been the one to ask the question.

"I'm not being funny, but how can you possibly know anything about England that we don't already know? You only just got here!" Allan complained from the floor.

Djaq smiled fondly at him.

"Maybe I have better sources than you do." And then, looking up at the rest of them, she added. "Your King has returned."

"What?!" Much shrieked, pausing in the process of putting his jumper on. This particular bit of intelligence was unexpected. So unexpected, in fact, that lead him to ask a very stupid question. "What King?"

"Well, Richard, of course!"

"Are you sure?" Marian pressed.

"I should certainly hope so. I've been traveling with him for the last couple of months. I would be extremely put out if it turned out he's just an impostor."

"Hold on," Allan interjected, holding his palms out for her to slow down. His head was spinning with everything she had just told them and he needed a moment to sort his thoughts out. "You're saying that the war is over."

"Yes."

"And that the King is back in England?"

"Yes. In Nottingham!"

"The King is in Nottingham," Allan repeated, willing his brain to grasp at the words. "He's come to deal with the Sheriff, then?"

"That's the plan."

"Well, that's good news!" Much exclaimed suddenly, after a moment of silence. "_Great_ news!" He stumbled over his own feet on his way off the bed. The new boy had to grab him by his shirt to prevent him from falling to the ground.

They had been back on English soil for a few months now, and while outwardly they had kept an appearance of outmost confidence, deep down their faith in their cause had began to fade a little bit. The King had been gone for so long and they had tried so hard to bring him back, all to no avail... No-one had said it out loud, obviously, but the idea that they would have to settle for keeping Vaisey at bay indefinitely had certainly started to float around the Outlaws' Camp.

(Robin had always gone out of his way to keep the morale up; with him gone, that role had remained vacant).

But now the King was back. _Finally_.

"A little context, please?" Luke asked to no one and everyone.

"Context, right. Luke, Kate, meet Djaq. She's part of the gang," Much said solemnly. He was more excited than he had been in months, the news of King Richard's return having brought back some of the life Robin with his passing had taken from him.

"Djaq? The same Djaq for whom Will decided to stay in the Holy Land?"

"Ah, you must be little Luky then", Djaq held, noting the similarities between this man and he who she held most dear. "Will will be delighted to see you."

"Will is here?" Allan asked, craning his neck as he expected to find the man standing among them.

"He's back at the King's camp. He sends his love, though."

"Then we need to get going!" Much announced. John nodded his head in agreement and Allan quickly jumped to his feet.

It was at times like these that one could clearly see Robin's influence. Of course they would want to go and make themselves useful. Waiting in the shadows would be torture, even if they _did_ take part on the final showdown. They wanted to start doing things now –like their leader would. But Robin had learnt to wait, and so would they. They had to be careful or they would end up losing more than their lives.

"No, you can't!"

"I'm not being funny, but why shouldn't we? You're not suggesting we miss the party, are you?"

Djaq hastily explained the plan to them, making sure they understood how important it was that Vaisey didn't suspect a thing.

"It's just two more days," she pleaded. "By diner on Sunday everything will be over. Vaisey will be done for; you will all be pardoned... You just have to be a little more patient."

"She's right," Marian agreed from the place where she had silently been listening to everything that was being said. "We've waited so long for this moment; we can wait a little more."

She had the most reason to want to go, but at the same time she recognised the dangers of moving in on the Sheriff without a clear plan. Once upon a time, she had used to chastise Robin about acting impulsively. Now things had changed, she knew, and she was want to act a little bit too close to the reckless side from time to time, but deep down she was still the girl who had created a whole new persona to taunt Vaisey and his men without falling out of his grace. Much as she wanted to march into Nottingham right now and finally put an end to a war that had started years ago, she wasn't going to do it. She owed her younger self better than that.

No one could think of a good counterargument –not that they didn't _try_. They were really eager to get a move on things. But they reluctantly decided to wait until Sunday, just like Djaq had said. After all, the last thing they wanted was the whole plan to crumble because of a silly mistake that could have easily been prevented.

Once the initial shock of seeing their friend again started to wear off, preparations for the day began to be made. Blessedly they didn't have anything big planned for Nottingham in the course of the next few days, nor did they expect the Sheriff to have anything in store for them either. It seemed as if good fortune was finally smiling upon them. They did have a few drop offs scheduled, though, and Djaq took advantage of this to ask those who were to go to the villages to spread the word about something big happening in Nottingham on Sunday. She would give Robin the audience he wanted.

After lunch they separated. Kate and Allan went to Locksley while Luke and John took to Clun. Much and Marian were to have the day off.

It was explained to Djaq that they had taken up this system so they could be sure at least two of them would always be free and rested in case of an emergency. What they didn't tell them was that they had come up with such a system after Marian wandered off into Nottingham alone one day shortly after the guys return while everyone was off doing other things and she had almost gotten herself captured. It was sheer luck that Gisborne had been so busy organising a search party with his guards (ironically enough to find _Marian_ of all people) that he hadn't seen her standing there before John could forcefully remove her from the premises.

She hadn't been happy about it, obviously and had attempted to have another go. It was then decided that she should never be left alone, and so the gang had broken into pairs. It ended up working better than they had expected, because they had had to act rashly from time to time, and having two people constantly at the camp had made things easier.

It didn't take Much long to leave in search of something especial for dinner. Soon the women were alone.

Djaq watched the other girl for a while. She sat on Robin's bunk, gazing out of the camp as she toyed absentmindedly with the thread around her neck. She had no trouble guessing what that thread held. She had caught Robin with his hands absently rummaging around his clothes for the tag he was so used to wear –guessing where the tag had gone (or rather, to whom it was given) wasn't exactly hard.

"So, the Night Watchman..." she said suddenly.

Marian smiled –not a happy smile, but probably as close to that as she could give her.

"You're not precisely in a place to chastise me, _Djaq,_" she reminded her, stressing the last word. After all, she wasn't the only one who had taken on a different identity to fight her enemies. The Saracen didn't reply, but she did smile a little bit. Marian did have a point. "Besides, if you're going to say that it's dangerous, you might as well save your breath. It has already been made quite clear that I'm being intentionally reckless."

"Are you?"

"If I were being reckless, would Gisborne still be alive?" She countered.

"Probably not," her friend agreed.

"Look, I'm doing my best," she said after a while. "It's not exactly easy, but I'm managing." She was alive. She hadn't killed Gisborne or Vaisey and her secret identity had remained a secret. That was more than she had expected a few months ago.

Yes, she could fool many when she said she was fine. But she couldn't fool Djaq.

She had seen it before, not just here in Sherwood, but in the war as well. Every soldier went through it at some point or another: a certain moment when everything became too much and things would simply stop making sense. All that would remain at those times was sheer hatred and thirst for revenge. Djaq had had one of those, back in Acre, when her brother was killed. She had ended up captured thanks to that. Her companions hadn't been immune to such a trend either: Robin, John, Will and even Allan to an extent had all gone through that one moment when their own safety ceased to matter and all they had cared about was retribution in the name of those they had lost.

Now, it would seem, it was Marian's turn to feel like that. Only that she was smarter than they were and she had decided to play the long game, rather than let her emotions take a hold of her. She may have told her friends that she wasn't about to go after Gisborne again –and she meant it; she really wouldn't go _looking_ for him, but she certainly wouldn't pass on the opportunity either. When the time came to go to Nottingham, she would be ready –and Gisborne would finally have to face what he had done.

The rest couldn't see this, all of them battling their own anger and pain. But Djaq could.

Just when she was finally done babysitting Robin, it would seem as if she would have to start babysitting Marian. How wonderful.

"I know you are and I'm proud of you. Few women in your place would have done what you're doing. But, I do feel compelled to point out that getting yourself killed in the process is not going to help anyone. That _is_ your end game, is it not? To go down taking as much as the Sheriff's men as you can?" she pointed out calmly, in an attempt to make her friend think things through. It was useless, she knew, but she had to try. She had to try _everything_.

Marian was only slightly surprised that the Saracen woman had seen through her so quickly. Robin had warned her once, long ago, that the Outlaw had that power.

She didn't reply, but she didn't really need to.

"Marian!" Djaq said angrily. She had hoped to be wrong about this one. "You cannot be thinking about..."

But she could be. She had been.

"He killed _Robin_," Marian hissed, as if that were enough of a justification.

"And he's going to kill you if you're not careful!"

Marian winced, ever so slightly, and it was then that realisation dawned upon Djaq. It wasn't revenge she was after –or rather, not _just_ revenge.

"You _want_ him to kill you, don't you?"

"Robin and I, both killed by the same sword... it's kind of poetic, don't you think?"

It hadn't taken her long to come up with this plan. Pretty much since the moment she had heard about what Guy had done she had decided to make him pay, not by killing him, but by hurting him –just as he had hurt her.

She had gotten lucky pretty early on. Returning to Nottingham and finding her gone had been a huge blow to Gisborne's confidence and she had enjoyed every minute of watching him trying to find her. (It was because of his pain that she had decided not to kill him, not because of anything the other Outlaws had said to her). Taunting him as a Night Watchman and shooting Robin's arrows at him –she had saved them for really special occasions, like when she was facing Gisborne or Vaisey; everyone else got regular arrows from her– as a reminder that Robin Hood was not dead had been good too. But the time for games was over now.

She was ready to take things to the next level: she was going to have Gisborne kill her.

He would never come back from that, she was sure.

"Robin wouldn't want you to get yourself killed," Dajq reminded her. She knew what she was talking about: if Robin was to be in the Courtyard and he was to see Marian and Gisborne fighting and something were to happen to her... She didn't even want to think of what would happen then.

No, Robin would want her to live. Marian knew that. Then again, she had wanted him to live and he hadn't cared, so he really got no saying in her life anymore.

"Then Robin should be here to stop me, don't you think?" The former lady of Knighton said fiercely.

It took all of Djaq not to laugh outloud.

* * *

><p><strong>So, what did you think? To tell you the truth, I have mixed feelings about this chapter. I'm not a big fan of Marian (and I know some of you aren't either), so I had a hard time writing for her. But I'm moderately pleased with the end result, I think. <strong>

**Also, shameless promotion here. This isn't my first attempt at writing a _Robin Hood_ fanfiction. I actually dipped my toes in the fandom a few years back, writing one and a half stories. The "half" is because one of them was kind of my reaction to an episode from season 3 I hated even more than I hated the rest of the season. I was angry, and so I wrote. The other story was Robin's and Marian's reunion after he came back from the Holy Land, only than my version went slightly differently. It's a cute story, with no deaths or near-death experiences. It's was written a few years ago, so the quality might not be all that good (I'm like the wine, if I may say so myself: I get better with age). But, if you ever feel like reading something like that, just know it exists. **

**Now I'm done. **

**I'll see you in a few more days!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello, my lovelies! I know I haven't been too active around here this past week (those of you who sent me PMs might have noticed this), but I'm here now. This chapter is a little shorter than the rest, and also not much happens. But it features Robin and some good old-fashion angst. **

**Again, sorry for the delay. I promise next chapter -which is my personal favourite, in case you were wondering- is going to be up soon.**

**Have a good Sunday, those of you that are slightly behind me in the time zone or a good start of the week for the rest.**

**I'll see you soon.**

**By the way... As usual, thank you so very much for your constant reviews and messages. I've fallen behind once again with the replies, but know that I read them all as soon as I get them and you always bring a smile to my face. I'm going out for lunch right now, but I'll try to get back to all of you this afternoon. In the mean time, please enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>PART V<strong>

He woke up early.

Okay, so maybe that wasn't right, for to wake up, one has to go to sleep first, and he hadn't slept.

It wasn't for lack of trying, though. Every good soldier knows how important a good rest is before a big fight, and Robin of Locksley was nothing if not a good soldier. He had retired to bed early the night before and tried to will himself into falling asleep.

It hadn't worked out. 

Every time he closed his eyes he would see them –his friends. Their expressions would shift: sometimes they would be happy to see him; sometimes they would look terrified.

Mostly, though, they would look furious.

He had let Djaq think that his greatest fear was finding out the Outlaws were gone. Though he felt some discomfort at the prospect of not finding them in Sherwood, he was far more worried about what they would say if they did, in fact, remain.

He was coming back from the dead, for Pete's sake! Much had held his hand as he drew his -allegedly- last breath! He was known to charm his way out of trouble more often than not, but he wasn't clueless enough not to know that that was not an okay thing to do. It would take more than a cheeky smile and a clever comeback to start making amends –a lot more. (Not to mention the fact that his powers were better suited to be used on girls, rather than a bunch of big, smelly males).

By dawn he realised that sleep would be unobtainable, so he got to his feet and exited the room as quietly as he could.

He walked along the edge of the forest for a while, imagining he could hear them as they went about their morning routine. They were probably chatting and laughing as they got everything ready for the day. Whether they would still be happy when they returned that night was anyone's guess.

It was mid-morning when he returned to their camp, so he found that everyone was alredy up and getting ready.

"Excited?" Will asked him while he rummaged around the pile of weapons until he found a sword of his liking. (A group of armed traders would have drawn too much attention, so their weapons had been carried separately until now).

"Understatement," Robin replied with a smile as he looked longingly at the different bows that laid for them.

"You know what she said, no archery until you're completely healed," his friend reminded him when he followed his gaze. Though mended, his wound was still tender, and Djaq was worried the movement required to shoot with a bow would irritate it further.

"I know," he answered with a sigh. "I just miss my things."

"You'll have them back soon enough. Much probably hid them somewhere near Locksley."

Will was right. It had been Robin's idea that his former manservant took his weapons back to England. Ideally, he would have liked to be buried in his own country, in his own lands, with his own family, but since that would have been impossible, he had instructed his friends to take his weapons instead and bury them in his place. Had he known that he would survive, he never would have made such a request, for he felt naked and vulnerable without his own bow to protect him. But he hadn't known –_couldn't_ have known– that Gisborne would fail to kill him yet again, so his weapons had gone back to England, and Robin had to settle with someone else's sword. Needless to say he wasn't happy.

Conversation was effectively ended by the appearance of the King, who assigned them to their different tasks.

Will and the King's Page were to go ahead into Nottingham by foot to make sure everything was ready for them. Then the page was to proceed further up North and meet with the troops from York, while Will stayed in Nottingham to serve as middle-man between them and the Outlaws -a role he would be sharing with Djaq, as not to draw too much attention to either of them.

Sir Frederick of Kent, one of the King's oldest friends and right-hand-man was to disguise himself as trader and ride a cart they had acquired for the occasion into town. The four remaining knights were to hide inside that cart and wait for the right moment to make their appearance known.

Robin had been assigned to plan Richard's grand entrance and he had jumped at such an opportunity. To someone with such a fling for the dramatics as he had, being in charge of the biggest event Nottingham would _ever_ witness was a dream come true.

It had been decided, then, that both of them would ride together into town, trying not to draw attention to themselves. Once in Nottingham, they would make their way into the castle and wait until the rest of them created a big enough distraction to make it safe for Richard to emerge. That _should_ be enough to prevent Vaisey from launching any sort of attack, but Robin would remain in the sidelines, just in case.

If finding the rightful King of England in his Courtyard didn't do the trick, finding a back-from-the-dead Robin Hood certainly ought to do.

Will and the Page set out shortly thereafter, with strick instructions to avoid any place that looked even remotely inhabited. The rest stayed until the sun was high in the sky and then followed them.

Robin had set out three clear paths for each of the groups. The one he had assigned the King and himself was the one that ran deepest through the Forest, consequently closest to the Outlaws' camp. This shouldn't have been a problem, for the Outlaws were supposed to be already in Nottingham, but as he rode along the familiar roads, he half expected to fall victim to one of their ambushes. He couldn't help but laugh out loud as he imagined what would happen if he were to be made a prisoner by his own friends.

The King noticed this but made no comment.

Robin deserved to be excited, and honestly, he hadn't seen his young friend this happy in a very long time. Come to think about it, he wasn't sure he had ever seen him like this –not in the Holy Land, at least.

They arrived in Nottingham without complications. Robin, who had spent long hours back at the ship going over all the possible ways in and out of the castle, had long since decided that the safest way at this particular time was through the kitchens -he would have preferred to climb, but he wasn't sure the King would have been up to the task, and even if he was, there still would have been a greater chance of exposure. The kitchens had never been too guarded, so it was always pretty simple to slip in. Besides, he knew one of two of the girls that worked there who could help them out, should the need arise. They left their horses tied in front of the Inn, lest someone grow suspicious of two unattended animals wandering about the town and proceeded by foot.

He had gone through the scene time and time again in his mind, not just during the past few days, but also for many months now. From the moment he woke up, that warm morning in the Holy Land in Bassan's spare bedroom, some weeks after the regicide attempt, he had been planning his return. He had seen himself walking down the familiar streets, had imagined how he would feel like being back here again. He had been wrong.

This wasn't the first time he had to return to Nottingham after a long absence –this wasn't even the first time he came back from the dead (he was sure that not many people had held many hopes of his survival after he was gone for five years the first time around). But it was different now. Everything was different.

He was different.

Death has a way of putting things into perspective. He had learnt the hard way.

Before, he had come as someone disenchanted with the war, looking for comfort in the familiar setting of his own country. He'd also been young enough, and arrogant enough to believe himself worthy of at least some admiration. Glory had long since stopped being his main goal, but a part of him had been glad to be appreciated. But now he knew better –he knew that England was not what he remembered from his childhood and that comfort was the last thing he should expect. Worse still was the knowledge that things had probably gotten worse in his absence, and there wasn't one soul that would rejoice at his presence. Not completely, at least. His little stunt –as unintentional as it had been– had hurt many people in ways he couldn't even begin to imagine.

So instead of feeling warm and safe as he _wanted_ to feel –as he had felt when he rode with Much by his side–, he felt anxious and vulnerable. He also felt as if all eyes were on him, _not_ a good feeling to have as one was trying to make his way unnoticed.

They were almost by the gate when Robin heard the all-too-familiar whistle that had become the Outlaws's trade mark.

Signalling the King to stay put, he moved swiftly towards the source of the noise, half expecting to find Allan or John when he turned the corner. It wasn't either of them.

"You look like hell," Djaq informed him when he was close enough.

"And yet, I probably still look better than I did the last time I saw the lads," he countered with a grin. It was true. The dark circles he was probably sporting under his eyes and his pale skin were nothing compared to how he had looked a few months ago. At least he was alive, and standing. And the ground beneath him wasn't tainted by his blood.

Djaq rolled her eyes. She really didn't have time for this. It was enough that she would have to keep an eye on Marian; she could really do without Robin exhausting himself to death too.

"You should have rested. You are still weak."

"Enough about me," Robin whispered exasperated. He was tired of being treated like a baby; he was eager to go back to being his old self. "What about you? What news do you bring?"

"You will be pleased to know that everyone is still here who was supposed to be here. Plus a few more."

Robin sighed in relief. At least that was one less problem to worry about. His gang was here; they were safe and hadn't gotten themselves killed. Good.

"So they are fine? John, Allan... Much?" he pressed, just to be sure.

"All of them, they are perfectly fine. They've even recruited a few more in your name."

"A few more?" He asked curiously. "Who?"

"Well, Luke Scarlett, for one. And another girl from Locksley, Kate. I think her mother is the potter." Robin nodded; he knew the girl. "Also..."

"What?" Robin pressed, noticing her reluctance.

Djaq had briefly toyed with the idea of not telling Robin about what she had found at the Outlaws' Camp, but finally decided against it. Robin would find out eventually, and if he stepped into the Courtyard unprepared he could possibly put all of them in danger. Even though he had matured some in the past few months, she doubted he possessed the self control required _not _to react when he found out that the woman he loved was once again in harm's way. "I'm only telling you this because you're going to find out sooner rather than later and it's best if you have some sort of warning." She paused for a moment. "Marian is here."

Her words felt like a slap to the face.

"What?" He shrieked loudly, making a group of women that were passing by to turn in their direction. Djaq squeezed his shoulder tightly to remind him to be quiet. "What do you mean that Marian is here?" He added in a low whisper.

"I mean that she is _here_. Really, I can't be any more clear than that, Robin."

"What is she _doing_ here?"

"She's sort of part of the gang. Or rather, the Night Watchman is."

Robin felt like punching something.

It's not that he hadn't thought of the possibility. He had always known, from the moment he got into the ship that was to take him to the Holy Land, that there was a very strong chance he would return to find Marian still in the castle, still playing her role as a double agent. Still in grave danger. He had put a great deal of effort to keep her safe, even from the distance, so instead of wasting what he thought were his final breaths informing Gisborne that the woman he intended to marry had spent the last couple of years dressing up as the Night Watchman and stealing from right under his nose, he had taken her secret to the grave.

Finding her here really shouldn't come as that big of a surprise. And yet it did.

Because he didn't _want_ her to be here. He had prayed and pleaded that she wasn't here.

Announcing his survival before the better part of Nottinghamshire was hard enough. Doing so in front of the very people who had watched him die was worse. He had drawn some comfort from the fact that Marian, at least, wouldn't be there –that he would have a few more days to find the right way to tell her. It wasn't much, but it was _something_. He would have enough dealing with Much's pain and disappointment, he had been really happy he wouldn't have to deal with hers too. Not yet. Not here.

But since when did Marian make things any easier on him? Of course she had stayed, and of course she was here right now. And of course she would be shocked and angry to see him again, which would certainly make her a liability.

So Marian was in danger –again. And he was in no small part responsible for that.

Great.

"This wasn't part of the plan," he said dangerously. "This changes everything."

"No, it doesn't. Think of her as you would of Much or John."

"She's neither one nor the other!" Much, and especially John, had some sort of self control. Angry at him as they would certainly be, they would know better than to attack him in the middle of the Courtyard. They would deal with Vaisey and _then_ with him. Marian was much more impulsive, a trait –he had to admit– she had always shared with him.

"Maybe, but she is as much part of the gang as ever they were. She can hold her own."

Robin paused for a moment.

Yes, she probably could. And yet...

"Keep an eye on her, alright? Keep her out of the way."

"I'll try my best, but have you met Marian? It's probably not going to be that simple."

Robin winced. That was exactly what he was afraid of.

* * *

><p><strong>Robin was surprisingly hard to write for in this chapter. I hope I did him justice nonetheless. <strong>

**Let me know what you thought in your reviews!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Remember when I said I was going to update on Mondays? Okay, clearly I'm not doing that. I'm sorry for all of you who don't haven't add this story to their alerts. I hope it's not too confusing. **

**There are two reasons why I'm posting this earlier. The first one is that I really want people to read this chapter -it's the chapter around which I built the whole story and I'm incredibly proud of it (it's rather unusual for me to say so; I tend to be very critical of my work, but for some reason I can't get enough of this chapter). The second reason is that there's another long weekend this next week (did I mention my country is a joke? The amount of long weekends we have here is embarrassingly high), and I will find myself without access to the internet until Tuesday. If you want me to be a very happy person, you'll fill my email account with lovely reviews by the time I get back -and believe me, if I end up doing what I'm suppose to do this weekend I'm going to _need_ those reviews to cheer me up. **

**As usual, thank you all who are reading this, whether you're reviewing or not. I made a mess and I have no idea which reviews I've replied to for chapter 4, but I swear I'm not going to do that again. If you write, I'll answer. So _please _write. I'm eager to know what you all thought about this chapter in particular.**

* * *

><p><strong>PART VI<strong>

"I have a bad feeling," Much said, fidgeting with the hem of his hood.

"Yeah, I know, you've said that already. Relax, everything is going to be just fine," Allan replied tiredly, casting a nervous glance around himself just to be safe.

They were both standing among the slowly-growing crowd in the Courtyard. Alone. The six Outlaws plus Djaq had arrived an hour or so ago and had spent most of that time going around town to make sure Richard didn't run into any unforeseen complications on his way in. They had agreed to reconvene back at the Courtyard, but at the moment only the two of them had made it back.

"What if he got lost? What if he was captured? What if it's all a ploy and Djaq was in on it?" Much, not exactly an optimist on the bests of days, and without Robin's cheerful assurance that everything was going to be perfectly fine, was having a hard time trying to stay positive.

"Djaq is not in on any ploy!" The other man snorted. "Quite worrying; tonight we'll dine at the castle!"

"I'll believe it when I see it..." he muttered, still uneasy. He had made the mistake of letting himself believe things would be alright before and he really wasn't going to do that again. Not until he had hard proof.

Robin would be proud of him. He had spent half his life trying to get his manservant to think things over and stay calm. It was a real shame that it was his death that brought this change on Much.

"I can't believe the mention of food doesn't have you breaking into a song," a voice commented from behind them. "You've changed, Much."

Both men turned to find Will Scarlett smiling at them from under his hood.

"You really are here. I cannot believe you are really here!" Much muttered. And just like that, his previous reluctance was gone. He was the same old Much, excited to finally put an end to this nonsense.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Allan's face broke in a huge grin when he spotted the man he considered almost a brother standing so very close to him. He had missed Robin and he had missed Djaq, but it was Will whose absence hurt the most. He had understood his reasons for staying, but he had also secretly hoped he would change his mind soon. Allan loved all the lads, but there was something he shared with Will that no one else understood.

As happy as he was that King Richard was _finally _back, he was actually more excited to have his brother back in his life.

"It's good to see you again. I'm glad the missus allowed you to come back," he joked good-naturally.

"And I'm glad to find you here. I wasn't sure whose side you would be on this week." Allan might have taken offence or even felt shame at his words if Will hadn't been smiling when he uttered them. It was the same smile of old, and Allan's own grin widen at the sight.

"Missed you, kid," he said, wrapping his arms around the other man's shoulders. "It's not the same here without you."

"I know. I've missed you too."

"I just wish Robin was here to see it. He would be so happy that the King was back..." Much continued idly, oblivious to their exchange. He also didn't seem to remember they were in the middle of Nottingham, surrounded by preying ears. Mentioning Richard's impending return was not the smarter thing to do and Much should know better by now.

"Shut up, Much."

"Right. You are right. We can't risk any one hearing us. Sorry. I'm just _so_ excited!"

They were soon joined by the rest of the Outlaws who were really thrilled to see Will again -Luke more than anyone. Will, who had had no idea of his brother's whereabouts was slightly surprised, but he couldn't help but feeling a certain amount of pride. He was glad he had taken over the place he had left vacant.

Djaq also joined them some time later and filled them in on the latest developments she had discussed with "someone close to the King".

"Everyone is in position, so it will be our job to create an opening," she informed them in hush whispers. "We'll have to get the Sheriff away from the castle, so the King can make his entrance."

Everyone nodded in approval, their minds already going through the different ways in which they could cause a scene. Allan suggested that they did something dramatic, like try to steal something from inside the castle, but they ended up favouring Marian's plan instead. She reasoned that they didn't need to _do_ anything, that simply by showing up would they accomplish what they needed.

"No need to be unnecessarily reckless," she reminded them, with just an ounce of petulance –it was nice being the one recommending caution after so long.

They spread out after that. John positioned himself by the gate to prevent anyone from trying to make a run for it. Much and Marian went the closest to the castle and were tasked with engaging both Vaisey and Gisborne until backup arrived. Will, at a look from Djaq, followed the woman at a safe distance, so he could help her out, should she get herself in too deep with her former betrothed, while Djaq herself remained in the sidelines, not far from where Sir Frederick already waited (the cart had been parked just outside the Courtyard, and the Knights were waiting patiently inside of it), ready for Robin's signal. Luke and Kate mingled with the crowd.

Robin and Richard were by now already inside the castle, the young man leading the way along the long corridors. They didn't find many guards in their path, and the ones they did were quickly incapacitated before they could raise the alarm. They arrived at the stone steps with time to spare.

Hiding behind a door, Robin cast a quick glance around the Courtyard, making sure everything and everyone was where they were supposed to be. His breath caught when his eyes found Marian, standing so very close to him. She was clad in her Nightwatchman's uniform and she was trying to blend in with the crowd, but he had no trouble recognising her. He was drawn to her –always had and always would. There was no way around it.

His whole body inched ever-so-slightly forward in an attempt to get closer to her, but he stopped himself in time. He couldn't catch her attention yet. Not here. Not while Vaisey was still a free man. Not when Gisborne was standing so close to them eying intently at the crowd.

He couldn't help but smile when he realised that he had been in the castle for mere seconds and already he had found Marian. Gisborne, on the other hand, must have been staring at her for at least a few minutes and he seemed to have no idea that the woman he claimed to love was actually there, disguised as his enemy. How little did the man really know of the girl he had once hoped to marry! Robin would be sure to point that out if he had the chance.

Vaisey and Gisborne were standing at the top of the stone steps, the Sheriff going on and on about some thing or another –he usually did this on Sundays; _'Weekly briefings,'_ he called them. Robin considered making their move now, but rejected the thought almost immediately. Though appearing behind them would certainly be shocking enough, the guards would be upon them before half of the people at the Courtyard knew what was going on. No, they needed time to build up to the big scene.

He immediately came up with a plan, which he quickly explained to Richard. He saw no fault in it, so both men separated: the King remained hiding near the doors while Robin moved swiftly in the direction of outer walls. The battlement would be the perfect point from which he could monitor the situation without being seen, but he would also be able to intervene, should he need to.

There was only one guard that was easily knocked out of the way. The young Outlaw was pleased to see that the guard had been carrying a bow, which he took for himself. He may have promised Djaq not to shoot, but it was certainly comforting to have it close to him just in case.

Vaisey was almost done with his speech by now, so they had to hurry before people began to disperse and the Sheriff was lost inside the castle.

Robin took the small reflecting glass from his pocket and pointed it in the direction of Djaq –a trick he had picked up from the woman herself. She caught on immediately and in turn made a signal of her own to Marian.

The Nightwatchman mutely picked up her bow, poised one of Robin's arrows in place and shot in the direction of the two men that had caused so much pain and suffering to practically everyone there.

The Sheriff sighed tiredly as the arrow flew by his right ear and embedded itself on the wooden door behind him.

"Don't you people have _any_ respect for the sanctity of this day?" he asked as his eyes searched the crowd for the source of this latest attack. He found Marian quite easily, for she had ceased her attempts to hide herself. On the contrary, she was standing tall, and even if her face was half covered it was quite easy to see she was smiling mockingly.

The Outlaws meant very little to Vaisey at this point. After Robin's death they had stopped being interesting to him –just a bunch of peasants gone rough. But the Nighwatcham, on the other hand, was another story. He had no idea of the man's true identity, though it was pretty obvious he was more than a simple peasant. He also couldn't understand how he had come to be in possession of Hood's weapons, or why he seemed to have taken his place in the gang. All in all, there was a certain aura of mystery about the Nightwatchman, and Vaisey didn't like it –he didn't like not knowing. So, every time the opportunity arose to capture the man, he was determined to make the best of it.

Today was no exception.

"The Nightwatchman! Guards!"

At his cry, several dozen guards erupted from inside the castle, their swords up and ready to fight. But so were the Outlaws. In one swift movement, Robin's gang removed their hoods and charged against the guards. There was a small commotion as peasants tried to move out of the way, fearing to be caught in the fight. Taking advantage of the confusion, the King's men (the one's that had travelled with him and also those that came from York) also made their entrance and joined the fight.

Robin watched from his vantage point, his eyes darting quickly from one of his friends to the other, making sure they were all doing okay. It was hard to keep track of everyone. Every second his attention would be drawn somewhere as he heard the clash of metal against metal and several howls of pain. It made him feel sick to stay like that, watching from the shadows. His whole body was urging him to jump in, to help. His hands held the borrowed bow so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

He already knew staying out of the way would be hard, he just didn't know exactly how much so. The worst moment was when he noticed Marian and Much breaking from the crowd to engage Gisborne and Vaisey in a fight. He almost intervened then, caution be damned, but he spotted a tiny gesture made by Will in his direction. With an almost imperceptible shake of his head he was trying to tell him not to worry, that everything was going to just fine.

"Stick to the plan," his brown eyes screamed and Robin couldn't but agree with him.

Especially when he realised he was probably right. Everything appeared to be going exactly as planned.

He had always known Marian to be an exceptional fighter –he would often tease her and say it was because she had learned from the best–, but there was something different about her today. Even with her mask he could see her fierce determination shinning in her icy blue eyes and the way she wielded her sword as she tried to make her way towards Gisborne told him she wasn't fighting to wound –she was going for the kill.

Much, too, seemed to be particularly daring today. He had never enjoyed fighting, like his former master had, but that didn't mean he wasn't an exceptionally accomplished warrior. After all, he had survived for five years in the desert, and although he had had a little help from Robin from time to time, such a monumental task had required a certain amount of talent as well. Today more than any other day, that talent showed and Robin felt somehow proud of his best friend. Doing what he was doing –fighting his way towards the Sheriff– couldn't be easy, and the fact that he was doing it proved how much he still cared about Robin: even if his friend was dead, Much would still do what he had asked of him, he would still fight for Richard; he had done so in the Holy Land, and he would certainly do the same thing in Nottingham.

Far from calming him, seeing how the two people he cared about the most in the world fared without him somehow made things worse for the young nobleman because he could clearly see now the effects his absence had had on them: these weren't the same people he had left behind all those months ago; they had changed –his _death_ had changed them– and it was unclear whether he would be able to change them back –or even if they would want him to try.

It couldn't have been more than minutes before Much –and Frederick, who had joined him soon after the fight had started– managed to take Vaisey far enough from the doors, but for Robin time had never moved more slowly.

Peeking out from his hiding place, he made his second signal.

Being every bit the man of action that Robin was –and having almost as hard a time a he was having staying out of the way–, King Richard received his sign and made his entrance into the Courtyard.

"Sheriff Vaisey," he called in a deep, commanding voice that resonated all over the place. Several guards stopped fighting and turned to look at the source of such a voice.

The Sheriff, busy as he was fighting two people and trying to understand why there suddenly seemed to be so many Outlaws in his town, didn't at first realise he was being called upon, so it was a few moments before he turned around. When he did, though, Robin was glad to see that he turned a nice shade of green. He chuckled softly.

"What-" he began, unable to find the right words to phrase his thoughts.

"Surrender the town, Vaisey, and we might show mercy," the King continued, a small smile playing at his lips at the other man's obvious discomfort.

Gisborne noticed the sudden change in the atmosphere and turned his body slightly so he could have a clearer view of what was going on.

"The King!" he exclaimed in shock.

At his words, several of the guard that had remained fighting stopped abruptly and cast nervous glances around themselves, as if they expected someone to tell them what to do now.

Vaisey was completely dumbfounded at this sudden turn of events. Never in a million years would he have expected King Richard the Lionheart to standing in his very own Courtyard. Not like this. He was sure they had some time –that it would still be a few months before the man returned to England– and he was also certain that he had other things to handle before coming to Nottingham. How he had managed to move halfway across the country without anyone knowing it was another mystery and if he hadn't been so angry and confused –and also a bit terrified– he would have given the matter more thought. As it was, the only thing he could do was try to find a way to escape.

He was already in too deep to plead his allegiance to Richard, but he might still find a way to defeat him.

"That's not the King!" he said with as much firmness as he could muster. It was a lame attempt, but it was also the only card he had left to play. No-one here had ever been even remotely close to King Richard; no-one here was sure of what he looked like. There had been an impostor once, and Vaisey had been able to sell that he had had nothing to do with that. Maybe, just maybe, he could do it again. Perhaps his guards were dim-witted enough to believe that someone had sent a performer to play the part of the King for some reason or another. "That's an impostor! _Seize him_!"

Some guards made a half-felt attempt to charge at the man, but most of them just stood in their place, trying to make sense of the situation. Some even tried to run away, only to be stopped by John at the gate. (As he rapidly handled guard after guard with his sword, Richard couldn't help but smile at how accurate Robin's prediction had been). Vaisey himself couldn't do much, having both Sir Frederick and Much pointing their swords at him.

Gisborne decided that the Nightwatchman was not important when compared to the rightful King of England, so he quickly turned on his heels and made it towards Richard, attempting to end what he himself had started years ago. Robin saw this as the perfect time to intervene, but before he could even rise to his feet he was stopped by a voice he knew all-too-well.

"Forget it, Guy," Marian said softly yet sternly. Her voice carried through the Courtyard, all the way to the battlements, freezing Robin in his place. _What is she trying to do?_, he thought desperately. Knowing Marian it would surely be something reckless that would end up complicating things for him. What did she have to do this? Why couldn't she simply sit this one out? "It's over."

Guy of Gisborne stopped as if struck by lighting and turned to the source of those words, a look of utter horror upon his face. It was the first time the Nightwatchman uttered a sound in his presence, and yet his voice wasn't at all unfamiliar –or rather, _her_ voice.

"Marian?" he asked faintly. (If Robin hadn't been so busy freaking out, he might have smiled a little bit when he realised that Gisborne could at least recognise Marian's voice).

Lady Knighton removed her mask and hood, letting her long dark curls fall freely down her back.

Gisborne was surprised to see her, but so was Robin. Weeks and weeks had been spent dreaming of this very moment –or rather, dreaming of _her._

A lot had happened to Robin in the last few months and clearly he was not the same man who had left England. One thing, however, had never changed: his love for Marian. He had tried not to let his feelings cloud his judgment and he had actually succeeded, but that was over now. At that moment, seeing her looking fiercely at his would-be killer, seeing her trying to protect the King with her own life, seeing her as part of his gang –fighting in his name... Nothing mattered. Nothing but her.

For half a second he was actually relieved that she had stayed, because he didn't think he could have lived without her for a moment longer. But then he noticed how close she was standing to Gisborne and that temporally calm went flying out the window. He would much rather live without her for a few more days if it meant she would be safe.

"What are you doing here?" Guy asked unthinkingly.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she replied, a fierce smile across her lips. Clearly she was enjoying watching him suffer, and Robin was more worried than he was amused. Gisborne was dangerous and he wasn't particularly comfortable with her taunting him. "I'm putting an end to yours and Vaisey's plans. You're done now. It's over. We've won."

"You... You are with them?" he asked in disbelief. His obvious confusion brought a tiny smile to Robin's face, though the general weariness didn't leave him completely.

This time there was a real happiness behind her smile.

"Of course I'm with them. I've _always_ been with them. All this time I've been fighting for England."

Gisborne looked so out-of-sorts that it was almost pitiful to watch. Then again, he kind of deserved what he was getting. After everything he had done, not just to Marian, but basically to the whole of Nottinghamshire, it was high time he got what was coming his way.

Loosing Marian –or even the _idea _he had of her– hurt him more than pretty much anything else in the world.

"I could never be with someone like you. I could never _love_ someone like you. I would rather die than be with you, Guy of Gisborne."

He started to shake her head before she was even done talking, like a stubborn child who refuses to see reason.

"No. You're lying. They've filled your head with lies. I'm going to take care of this and then you and I are going to work things out."

"I loved _Robin Hood_," she said loudly, her voice echoing all over the Courtyard, making almost every pair of eyes turn in her direction. To Gisborne those words cut like a knife. "I was going to _marry_ Robin Hood," she pressed, her eyes sparking with pain and loss. "Did you know that? Did you know that I was working with him while I was in the castle? Did you know that as soon as my father died I went to Sherwood with him?"

It was good to have the words out in the open. Marian had been waiting for this chance for months. She wanted Guy to know –she wanted him to suffer at least a scrap of what she had suffered.

Never before had Robin had more trouble staying put than he did at that very moment. He wanted –needed– to run to Marian's side and hold her in his arms again. The pain he heard in her voice was much, much worse than the one he had felt when he was stabbed, and the fact that it had been him who caused it certainly didn't help putting his mind at ease. He pressed his forehead against the cold stone wall and shut his eyes tightly, praying with all his might that the situation may resolved itself quickly so he could start _trying_ to make amends.

"Robin Hood is dead," Guy said with as much force as he could.

"No, he isn't," Marian replied calmly, with so much certainty that Robin had to look at her to make sure his position hadn't been compromised. He needn't have worried, though, for by the looks of it Marian had no idea he was nowhere near them. "He still lives in the hearts of those who loved him. He lives through his peasants and the people he helped. He lives through _this_," she added, gesturing around the Courtyard. Several peasants exchanged some looks before nodding their heads in approval. "Don't you see it? Even dead he's managed to best you: he's brought the King home! Each and every one of us here, Guy... _We_ are Robin Hood."

Guy shook his head again, as if by doing so he could prevent himself from listening to Marian's words.

"No," he said stubbornly.

"I will _never_ stop loving Robin Hood," Marian hissed, her body inching forward as if challenging Gisborne to do something.

And something he did.

Hearing her profess her never-ending love for the person he hated the most was the final straw for Guy of Gisborne.

It really was fortunate that Robin was still at his core Richard's man and had been therefore keeping an eye on the King while he followed intently what was going on with Guy and Marian. Anyone else might have missed what happened next and the history would have gone differently then. Two things happened at once; two things only Robin could see in time.

Guy raised his sword at the same time as Vaisey's fingers curled around the handle of his own. The Sheriff had decided to take advantage of everyone's distraction to take matters into his own hands and finally put an end to Richard's life. Robin already had the arrow in place, but there was no way he could hit both men in time before either struck their blow.

Richard or Marian, who should he save?

It was in that moment that Robin's true colours finally showed.

Once upon a time, he had been a soldier. He had gone to the Holy Land wanting to make a name for his own. He had been tired of people calling him a "kid" (he had lost his father very young and other nobles had been reluctant to see him as a worthy heir), and had decided to prove them all wrong by joining the King's Private Guard and fighting alongside him against the infidels. He had been after glory and recognition and there was nothing he wouldn't have given for his liege. That side of him had remained even after coming back. It was that side that pushed him to save Allan and the Scarletts as soon as he got back home, that side that got him Outlawed. It was because of that soldier that he had agreed to go back to the Holy Land and attempted to bring the King back, even after being accused of treason and being left in the desert to die. It was because of that boy he had once been that he had not let anyone know he had survived, even if every day that went by he felt his heart breaking a little more as he thought about what his friends must be going through.

He had done all those things because he was a soldier. He was Robin of Locksley, captain of the King's Private Guard, and it was his duty as such to protect England and its King at all costs.

But at that very moment he was none of those things.

He was just a young man, watching as the woman he loved was about to be taken from him by his enemy.

Saying he made a decision would be incorrect because there wasn't a decision to be made. His body moved on its own accord, more out of instinct than anything else, and he doubted he would have been able to change courses even if he had tried. Not that he did. His priorities were suddenly very clear.

"Much, watch out!" he called out at the same time as he turned his body slightly to the left and released the arrow. (Just because he had decided to save one didn't mean he wouldn't do everything in his power to save the other –in this case, charging someone he had absolute faith in with the task). The pain was instantaneous, but he paid it no mind at all.

Much looked around himself, bewildered at the voice he sort of thought he recognised. He didn't have time to dwell on that, though, for his eyes quickly saw what the Sheriff was about to do. Their sword crashed in the air –just a few inches from the King's face– at the same time as Robin's arrow collided against Gisborne's shoulder, causing him to drop the sword just next to Marian's feet. The woman took a step back almost in a daze and cast a glance around herself looking for her saviour.

With Frederick's and Will's help, Much was soon able to incapacitate Vaisey and pin him to the ground.

"Had to try, didn't I?" the man commented lightly.

There was utter silence after that, except for Guy's grunts as he tried to reach for the arrow and remove it from his shoulder. Robin sat for a few moments trying to quell his racing heart. Too close; it had been too close.

He would have to have a conversation with Marian about taunting one's enemies –even if one was finally declaring one's unconditional love to a certain Outlaw. What was worse was that she had been carrying a sword around her waist, but she had had no intention to draw it.

Had Marian just tried to kill herself?

He didn't have time to think about that. There would be plenty of time to go through the scene over and over again and determine Marian's end game. There would be room for self-loathing too then, and possibly a big fight. For now he had bigger things to care about.

Finally he looked up and met the King's eye, silently asking him how to proceed. He knew what _he_ would do, but ultimately it was Richard's decision. Guy was momentarily incapacitated and Marian was in no immediate danger. He was back to thinking rationally –back to following orders. But, as it turned out, the King's idea was pretty much the same as his.

Nodding slightly, he signalled that he may do as he wished. He had earned the right to put a little show.

The smile that grazed Robin's features was wider than it had been in months.

"You know, Gisborne, I am constantly appalled at your attempts at wooing," he commented lightly, his voice voided of any traces of the internal turmoil that was going through his mind. He wouldn't appear before his enemies as someone close to breaking down; they would know nothing of how much pain he had gone through –was _still _going through– since they last met. "One moment you _say_ you love a woman and the next you try to go through her with a sword... Really, I'm curious, has that move ever worked?"

"Stay out of this," Guy said, looking at the source of the voice. He wasn't the only one. Guards, peasants and Outlaws alike all looked at every inch of the Courtyard, trying to make sense of this latest development. Hidden as he was, they couldn't see him. But he could see them.

"And even if this _wasn't_ the woman you have so often declared your love for," Robin continued, enjoying himself more than he had expected. He had missed this... _lightness._ He had missed being someone other than King Richard's most valuable asset. "-I don't see why you would think it is okay to threaten a sweet, innocent –albeit _incredibly reckless_– woman with your sword. That's not very knightly of you."

"She's far from innocent!"

"She simply informed you that her affections lie with someone much more worthy of them; I hardly think that's a crime..."

"Stay away from this!" Gisborne cried, suddenly realising that there was really no reason to be having this conversation in the first place. "This is none of your business!"

Robin laughed. A deep, menacing laugh that only a few of them could understand the meaning of. He turned violently to the side and shot another arrow in the man's direction –causing another shot of pain to course along the left side of his body–, this time nearly hitting him on the leg. Guy flinched out of the way.

"Let's think it over, shall we?" he said, and his voice sounded harsher now. "You went to the Holy Land and tried to kill the King, stabbing me in the process. You came back and you took over my lands and my title, which wouldn't have been all that bad if you hadn't treated my people like trash and allowed them to go hungry and die. You tried to get the woman I love to marry you under false pretences because you had the ridiculous idea that she would atone for your sins and then you burned down her house when she rejected you. You and your pal Vaisey struck a deal with the Black Knights to overthrow the King and then you went to the Holy Land –again– and you stabbed me –_also again_. So, yeah, I don't know about you, but _I_ would say that this whole thing _is my bloody business!_" his voice had been getting louder and louder with every statement and he was almost shouting by the last bit. Robin could tell that the angrier he got the harder it was to breathe, but he honestly didn't care. For months he had carried this anger with him and it was high time he gave in to it.

Gisborne, whose face had been growing paler and paler as Robin's voice grew louder, took a step back, horrified at the implications of such a voice. And he wasn't the only one who looked like he was about to be sick. By this point all the fights had ceased long ago and pretty much everyone was looking wildly around themselves, trying to confirm that the suspicions that had risen in their minds were grounded –that Robin Hood was actually, _miraculously_ there. In Nottingham. Alive. Amongst those most surprise were the Outlaws, naturally. Much, with his right knee firmly pressed against the Sheriff's back to hold him in place, couldn't keep his eyes from darting across the crowd, expecting Robin to be standing there. He was torn between wanting to believe his master was alive and not wanting to get his heart broken again.

However it wasn't Much who broke the deafening silence, or any of the Outlaws for that matter. It wasn't Marian or Guy or any of the several peasants from Locksley who had stayed in support of their King and, most importantly, their Outlaws. No, it was someone else entirely.

"Gisborne, you complete and _utter _fool!" Vaisey shouted angrily from the floor, startling Much. "You didn't check, did you? You stabbed him and you left, all-so-proud of yourself thinking _'Oh, I'm so strong! Oh, I killed Hood! Oh, I bet the pretty one will love me now!' _Idiot! Now you've angered the beast!"

Robin laughed as he climbed down the stairs on his way to the Courtyard, but he was the only one who did. Guy didn't see the least bit of humour in the situation.

"That's not Hood; that _cannot_ be Hood!" he cried angrily, trying to ignore the several pair of eyes that were fixed upon him. "He couldn't have survived such a wound. _Believe me_. It's impossible."

"Stranger things have happened," Robin commented from a much, _much_ closer position. He was at the gallery that surrounded the Courtyard now, standing just shy of the sunlight. He heard Marian's sharp intake of breath as she felt his presence somewhere to her right and he couldn't help but smile slightly. At least she wasn't attacking him –yet.

"_NO!_" Guy insisted. "No-one would have been able to survive such a wound!"

"You know... Some people have called me stubborn," the young man said lightly, stepping slowly into the light. "Of course, I prefer to think of myself as _driven._"

There was a sharp gasp from somewhere in the crowd as Robin stepped into the sunlight. Those who knew him well could tell he looked paler and thinner than before, but no-one cared at that moment because he also looked like himself –he looked like Robin and he was alive and oh my god how was this even possible! There were also a few metal clacks as swords were dropped on both sides of the fight and a few curses –many of them courtesy of Allan himself, who seemed to be the only out of Robin's old gang who could do anything besides stare.

Robin stood tall for a moment, a cheeky grin on his face as he looked around the Courtyard and locked eyes with each and every one of his friends for the first time in months. He had expected some anger from them, but at that moment they looked mostly surprised. Much's expression was completely blank, and Robin was willing to wager he looked even paler than himself. Allan looked as if he was trying to solve some very complicate math problem and John had that weird look upon himself that was neither joy nor anger, but somehow a combination of the two.

"Whatever you think happened, I didn't have anything to do with it," Vaisey said defensively, still from the floor. He was less surprised than he could have been at this sudden turn of events: not only this wasn't the first time Robin did something like this but also, he had to admit, his involvement was the only thing that could explain how Richard had made it so far without being seen. Hood had his problems, but one had to give it to him: he was sly when he needed to be. That was probably why it had always been so hard to catch him.

This time it was possible his interference ended up working in the Sheriff's favour. If he and Gisborne fought –and knowing both of them, it was obvious they _would_– there was every chance his role (Vaisey's) in the whole matter would be if not forgotten, then at the very least abridged. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to escape this in one piece.

"I'll deal with you later," Robin informed him.

"Take your time, I'm not in a hurry."

"Gisborne, I suggest you surrender your weapons now, or we will not be responsible for what happens next," the King said as Robin rolled his eyes at the Sheriff's lame attempt at humour. But Gisborne didn't hear him –couldn't possibly hear him, caught up as he was by the sight before him.

"You can't be here."

"And yet I am."

"You should be dead!"

"Many times over," Robin replied automatically, as he had so often done before everything went to hell.

The familiar taunt seemed to somehow snap Gisborne out of his stupor. His eyes never leaving Robin's, he bent down and picked up his sword, wincing as he did so.

"I don't know how you did it, Hood," he practically spat the name, "but this ends today."

"I agree. There are only so many times one can return from the dead before it starts to get a bit old," Robin answered calmly, balancing his own sword in his hands.

"There will be no returning after this," Gisborne said menacingly. "I'll make sure this time. I'll cut you into little pieces if I must."

"You can try, I guess..."

The fight that ensued was fierce, but not at all up to either man's full capacity. They were both badly injured –Gisborne's right shoulder was badly hurt and he was hence forced to swing his sword with his left hand, while Robin was exhausted after a long journey, few hours of sleep and his latest display of alive-ness, which had taken a bigger toll on him than he was willing to admit. Still, they both fought bravely, their swords clattering loudly as they collide in the air.

"Are you really so naïve as to think that you can just waltz back into Nottingham and everything is going to be fine?" Gisborne sneered at Robin as they circled each other.

The younger man laughed, because it was so ridiculous that Gisborne should think that he hadn't considered what he was coming back to.

"Naïve? Do you ever believe that I don't know _exactly_ what I'm coming home to? I know what I did –trust me, I do. I know what staying behind meant and why I had to sacrifice to be here right now," he paused and he shot a quick look in Richard's direction. The King returned that look with a small nod as an assurance that he would make sure his sacrifice wasn't in vain. "But I will work things out, because I'm _here_. I'm back. And I have right on my side –I've brought the King back."

The words echoed in both Robin's and Marian's minds –_We find Lardner, we bring the King home and then we get married_– and their eyes instinctively turned towards one another, conveying in that one look what they couldn't yet say out-loud. Gisborne saw his opportunity and took it.

He wielded his sword in Robin's direction, ready to deliver the fatal blow that was surely going to finish him this time around. Marian´s clear eyes went wide as she noticed the movement and her lips moved to form a single word.

"Robin..."

Her lungs felt constricted and she was unable to give that one word enough force as she would have liked, but it was enough. The young nobleman turned around just in time to see Gisborne's sword coming down on him. He jumped out of the way in the last second, but he wasn't quick enough and the blade ended up catching him in the arm. He howled in pain and his sword slipped from his hand.

It was as if all his strength left his body the moment the metal crashed against the cold stone steps. He fell to his knees, his breaths uneven and both his arms tied tightly around his body to try to keep at least some of the pain at bay. He held Gisborne's gaze as he neared him, a maniac glint in his blue eyes and sword at the ready.

"I'm going to enjoy doing this," the dark-haired man said almost franticly.

"If you're going to kill me just get on with it," the Outlaw replied tiredly. He was exhausted and dying didn't bother him all that much if it meant he could get some rest.

The whole Courtyard was silent as they watched Guy taking the final steps towards everybody's favourite noble. King Richard could do nothing but stare, for he was too far from his friend to go to his rescue and there were too many people between them for him to get a clear shot. There wasn't anything _anyone_ could do but wait, though it seemed only a miracle would save Robin now.

But there was no miracle. Instead there was a young girl who placed herself between the two men she had sort of loved at different points in her life.

"Marian, get out of the way," Guy and Robin said at the same time.

"If you want to kill him, you will have to kill me first," she said resolutely.

"Marian, please, don't be an idiot. _Move_," Robin tried to reason, but it was useless –he already knew this. Once Marian got an idea inside her head, it was very hard to change her mind –even if the idea was as ill-conceived as this one.

"No," she said again. "I'm not going to let him kill you again. I'd sooner die."

Robin was touched, he really was. But he was also going crazy. He had no problem dying, but he would be damned if he let the same thing happened to Marian. He had made his choice when he left for the Holy Land the first time –from that moment on, his life had started belonging to the King. She, on the other hand, had made no such commitment, nor did anyone expect her to. Quite the opposite, part of the reason why Robin did the things he did was so that she could live.

However, there was very little he could do right now. He was exhausted, he could barely move and his sword lay out of reach. Gisborne's arm was already raised, his sword ready to deliver the fatal blow. Robin could only watched helplessly as he prayed for Marian to see reason.

And then something amazing happened –or maybe not so amazing, because really, it should have been obvious by now that Much would simply not sit idly by while his Master's life –or Marian's for the matter, because at this point both things were pretty much the same thing– hanged in the balance.

"Master!" he called loudly, surprising even himself.

Robin called upon every ounce of strength he had left in his body and turned his head in Much's direction. And then he saw it: his sword –his actual sword, the one that was every bit as part of him as his own arms, not the one he had been using, inherited from some poor soul who hadn't been as lucky as him and hadn't made it out of the desert alive– was flying towards him.

Something snapped into place then for Robin of Locksley.

He stretched his left arm and his fingers curled against the metal handle of his weapon as his right arm wrapped itself around Marian's waist. In one quick movement he pulled the woman he loved out of harm's way as he moved to his feet, using the momentum to shove his sword forcefully into Gisborne's approaching body.

Marian groaned when she crashed against the floor and immediately turned in the direction of the two men, a look of utter horror on her pretty face. Time seemed to slow down as both men stood together, so close that their noses were almost touching, at the top of the stone steps of Nottingham castle. Then, suddenly, Robin took a step back. Guy remained standing for a moment longer and then, finally, he fell to the floor, mortally wounded.

Robin too stood for a moment –long enough to exchange a look with King Richard to assure him that the danger was finally over– and then too collapsed to the floor.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, I know some of you are angry at me right now. I killed Guy, who for some reason seems to be the most beloved character in the whole fandom. Let me say in my defence that I wasn't <em>planning<em> on killing him. Originally he would end up in prison and then he may or may not redeem himself -I was still a little fussy on the details. But as I sat down to write I realise that such an ending would never work, because he _freaking killed Robin!_ No way would the Outlaws or Marian or the King or even Robin forgive him after that, even if Robin didn't technically die. So sorry, but Guy had to go. (Remember that I'm ignoring season 3, so Guy didn't have his sudden change of heart). **

**I'm eager to read what you all have to say on the matter.**

**Have a lovely weekend! I'll see you all next week for the next chapter.**

**PS. Proud as I was of this chapter, I ended up adding over three thousand words to its first draft (thanks to Amaranthe Athenais and her incredibly insight on Robin's character). This story is now 37 792 words long. It's _by far _the most ambitious thing I've _ever_ written. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Heads up, this is going to be a long Author's Note.**

**While I'm grateful beyond words for the response I've been getting for this story (seriously, people, you are _amazing!_) and I welcome any sort of review, I want to take a moment to address two of you. Normally I don't like to single people out like this, but I think the situation requires it.  
><strong>

**I don't have your names, because you posted as "Guest", so the best I can do is say when the review was left and hope you notice (if you're still reading this).**

**On December 8, one of you asked me why I hated Guy. To be clear, I _don't_ hate him. Is he my favourite character? No, he's not. Do I think he's the one that should have ended up with Marian? God, no. But I'm mature enough to admit that he's a very interesting character and I suppose he can be redeemed under the right circumstances (I don't call season 3 right circumstances). In this particular case, however, I don't think there was a chance for him to switch sides. Killing Marian is not the same as killing Robin for Guy -the effect on his concious would not have been the same, so I don't see why the Guy in _this_ story would have been the same as the Guy on the show. So, to sum up, I don't have anything against him, it's just that _in this story_ it worked better if he died. I'm sorry to all of his fans and, _again_ I don't hate him. (You want to know who I hate? Isabella. And Kate. Oh, how I _hate_ Kate...). **

**I hope that's been cleared and that you decided to stick around even if Guy is no longer part of the story. (Let me know if you're still around, will you?)**

**Now for the second review, posted on December 14. I honestly have no problem justifying my work, not that I should, for I think everyone is free to write what they like (see the paragraph above for proof, or ask anyone who's been sending me messages lately). However, I would much rather if you didn't call me "Stupid goose". I have the same right to kill Guy as people have of having him marrying Marian, and while I'm not saying you should be happy with my decision, or even agree, you have to at least treat me with some respect. I _hate _Guy/Marian shipping, and yet I don't go around the site telling people they are stupid. I even acknowledge that there are some great stories with that pairing. Besides, I've been telling you Guy killed Robin since chapter two. Did you honestly think there was a chance for a happy ending for him? _Really_? As I've said, I think Guy's death was the obvious ending for him and it really shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone (if it did, I must be a better writer than I thought I was). **

**I really hope you're reading this. If you are, send me another review, perhaps not one as rude, and let's have a mature conversation about this. I really have no problem discussing _Robin Hood _(again, ask anyone here; they will tell you I've been exchanging several messages with them). But, if all you have to say is that I'm stupid because I don't see eye to eye with you, you might as well stay away from this story -and any other story I write, because clearly the two will never agree on anything. **

**Okay, rant over.**

**Everyone else, _thank you_. I know I've said this before, but I had almost zero expectations about this story, so to see how much people care about this is an unbelievable feeling. I've been on this site for years and it's the first time I've gotten this kind of response. Honestly, I don't know what to say other than you guys have made me happier than I've been in ages. **

* * *

><p><strong>PART VII<strong>

Someone was calling his name.

_Odd_, he thought. No-one had called him by his given name for months now, just in case it was overheard by the wrong set of ears and their whole plan was compromised. No, there hadn't been first names on the ship on his way back from the Holy Land and he couldn't understand why someone was using it now to call upon him.

Come to think about it, _why _were they calling upon him? Couldn't they see that he was trying to sleep?

"Robin!" the voice called again, more forcefully this time. "Open your eyes!"

He wanted to tell the voice to quit bothering him; that he just wanted to rest for a few more hours before they docked in England. Besides, he was having a good dream for a change –he was home and Marian was there and she was relatively happy to see him... He wanted to prolong the dream for another while, since he knew reality would be so different. He wanted to tell the voice to leave him alone, but he couldn't remember how to use his mouth.

"Robin!"

"I'm not being funny, but he looks dead," a different voice observed –a voice that sounded oddly familiar for some reason. Also, the words it had uttered made him want to smile –or would have, if he could remember how to do so.

"He's not dead! He can't be dead," a third voice said angrily. "He isn't, is he?" it added, a little uncertainly this time.

"Of course he's not," the first voice said. "He's just tired, Much. He's pushed himself way past his limits today."

_Much_... He knew someone by that name. It reminded him of the forest and songs and food.

"Well, I'll say! I heard coming back from the dead can be quite tiring," the second voice commented lightly, though there seemed to be some harshness underneath the casual tone.

"Allan, _shut up_!" Much hissed threateningly. "This is _so_ not a joke!"

_Allan!_ Why of course, this must be Allan A Dale then.

It took him a few moments to realise that neither Much nor Allan had any reason to be on the ship that was taking him back home. And, come to think about it, was he really sure he was on a ship? The ground didn't seem to be moving.

Reality came crashing down on him like a pile of bricks.

It hadn't been a dream.

He wasn't on the ship.

He was back.

He was in Nottingham.

His eyes flew open.

"There you are," Djaq told him, smiling in relief. "You had us worried for a minute."

But he couldn't care less about her relief. One thought and one thought only in his mind.

"Djaq, where..." he began to ask, his eyes already darting wildly in search of his friends. They had to be there -he had just heard them! He needed to see them –to talk to them. He needed to make things right again.

Before he could fully form the question in his mind, let alone voice it, the King appeared in his line of vision, effectively putting an end to his efforts.

"How is he doing?" he asked Djaq, ignoring the young man's annoyed expression.

"I'm not sure yet. He doesn't seem to be badly injured, but I'll have to take a look to make sure he hasn't caused more damage to his previous wound."

"Very well. Take him to the great hall –I've instructed everyone to meet there so we can figure out what our next move should be. You," he added, turning to address someone behind him. "Find bandages and clean water and everything else you think could be used to treat the wounded."

"Can you stand, Robin?"

The man tried to sit down –if only to get a better look of his surroundings–, but as he did so a sharp pain cursed through the upper part of his body and he winced in pain and he collapsed back on the floor, his fingers instinctively finding his old scar and pressing tightly against it.

Djaq gently grabbed his left arm and placed it over her shoulders, attempting to carry as much of his weight as she could.

"Here, let me," a deep voice said, coming from behind, where he had been standing next to the Outlaws and taking Robin's right arm.

The young man craned his neck slightly and came face to face with Little John.

"You wanted me to come back...," he said hoarsely, with a small smile playing at his lips. He might be in pain, but he was still himself, so there was no way he would pass on a opportunity to tease one of his friends.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," John replied, his upper lip twitching slightly.

Together they took him to the great hall and laid him on a table so that Djaq could take a better look. Robin drifted in and out of awareness as the Saracen woman carried her examination. He did notice when the guard returned, his arms full of whatever he could carry out of the medicine cabinet, and also that John seemed to have vanished as soon as he was in place.

"Everything seems to be in place. The cut in your arm is fairly deep, so you'll need stitches, but you've come back from worse."

"Djaq, I'm- Ouch!" she ignored his complain and continued to sew him up. "I'm fine," he tried again between stitches. He wasn't, of course. Every inch of him hurt and he was tired beyond words. Keeping his eyes opened was hard enough, breathing was a much greater task than it had been for weeks now and he honestly couldn't imagine how he was even supposed to sit, let alone stand. But none of that even compared to his overwhelming desire to meet with his friends. He'd crawl if he had to, but he couldn't just stay here. He needed to go to them –they _had_ to know the whole truth.

"Oh, yes. You look absolutely fine," Djaq commented sarcastically as she worked on his arm. No way was she going to let him fool her –she knew him too well.

The King returned before Robin could shoot her with one of his snarky replies.

"How is he doing?" he asked, ignoring the young nobleman once again, much to his dismay. He hated being talked about as if he weren't laying _right there_.

"He'll live," she answered. "But he needs to rest. He's pushed himself today and he's never going to get better if he doesn't take things easy."

"Fine, I will..." he began to say, hoping the two of them would at least acknowledge his presence.

They didn't.

"Can you make sure he does?"

"I could arrange for something, but he's not going to like it."

Robin knew all too well what _something_ meant. Back in the Holy Land, he had had some trouble accepting the fact that he was bedridden for a while and Djaq had had to resort to her Saracen knowledge to make sure he slept. But that simply wouldn't do right now!

"What? Come on, Djaq, I'm _fine_!"

"You heard what she said: you need to get your strength back if you are to be the good and caring Lord of Locksley you're supposed to be," Richard reminded the young man. (Funnily enough, he hadn't spared on thought on Locksley yet; he had more pressing matters to worry about for now). "Sleep. Rest. Get better. Everything will be waiting for you when you wake."

"And Vaisey?"

"In the dungeons, guarded by Sir Frederick himself. All the guards are in this room and our men are keeping a tight eye on them, should they try to do anything stupid –though I don't see why they would, since they haven't tried anything before. (You were right by the way: the element of surprise _did_ work). Sir Guy is dead," he added, guessing his young friend's following question.

"And my men?"

"I just saw them outside trying to put the crowd at ease. I imagine they should be done with that by now and they'll be waiting to hear from you. I don't anticipate they'll go anywhere for a while, but I'll keep an eye on them just in case."

"I'll talk to them," Djaq offered, mixing some herbs in a small vase.

"You have to tell them the truth," the former leader of the Outlaws said in a rush, turning to look at his friend. "They have to know that I had no idea that I was going to survive when I sent them back to England. Please, they have to understand that I _never _meant for them to be hurt –that the idea of them in any kind of pain has been killing me for months and that I was terrified that something could have happened to them while I was gone. I should have been here, and I wasn't and I hate myself when I think of everything they must have gone through..."

His green eyes were pleading as he tried to convey the right emotions for her friend to pass along. It was rare that he would open up so much to anyone, but his defences were low after everything he had gone through and gaining forgiveness was much more important than keeping up appearances that nothing ever bothered him.

"They know," the woman told her, lovingly stroking his cheek. "This isn't your fault, Robin. They know it."

"Please, just–" He was too exhausted to say anything else. Richard gave Djaq a small nod and together they made sure Robin drank every last drop of her concoction.

He was fast asleep within the minute.

King Richard called upon two of the knights that had come with them from the Holy Land and instructed them to take Robin into one of the rooms and keep watch over him for a while. Only when they were gone did the woman allow herself to relax and she frowned when she did.

Though she had told Robin she was sure the Outlaws would forgive him eventually, she wasn't anticipating the talk they were going to have to be easy. Besides, as glad as they would be to have their leader back, the fact remained that they had thought him dead for an impossibly long time. They would need someone to blame for all the heartache they had endured and while Robin would surely have to shoulder some of it, Djaq was a far more suitable candidate. She had been the one to pronounce him dead on the scene; she had been the one who told them there was nothing else to be done. And she had been the one to bring him back behind their backs.

No, Djaq was certainly not their favourite person right now and, quite frankly she didn't know if there was anything she could say to change their minds.

"I could talk with them if you'd like," the King offered, guessing what was going on through her mind.

"No, they should hear from me. It's only fair."

"It's not your fault either," he reminded her. "What happened... No one could have predicted that he would survive the wound, let alone live long enough to make it back. You did everything in your power. Robin knows that, and I'm sure your friends will know that too."

Djaq didn't feel like pointing out that if she had realise right away that Robin was still alive, she could have saved Much and Allan –and consequently everyone else– much of their heartache.

"I should go now. Unless, you need me here?"

"No. Go. You've earned a break from all of this. Check on him, though, and make sure he comes to see me when he awakes."

"It's probably going to be a few hours," she warned.

"I'll wait. I'm not going anywhere just yet."

Djaq nodded in agreement and left the hall in search of her friends.

She found Will as he was making his way back from the dungeons, where he had made sure Vaisey was safely locked up in a cell. She quickly informed him of the task Robin had charged her with.

"They'll be so mad..." she finished with a sigh.

"They'll be happy too."

"Not at me. I _told_ Much and Allan that he was dead. I sent them back to England thinking that it was all over. And then, when I came back, I didn't tell them either! They'll hate me!" Not a day had gone back when she hadn't thought of Much's tortured expression as she pulled him from Robin's seemingly lifeless body.

"Hey!" he said kindly, gathering her in his arms. "Hey! Stop that. You did what you could and _you saved Robin's life_. They'll come to see that too, eventually. I promise you."

"Yes, _eventually..._"

00000000000000000000000000000000000000

"I'm just going to come out and say it," Kate announced suddenly. She was sitting on the stone steps next Luke and Allan. John stood behind them, leaning heavily against his staff while Much paced impatiently back and forth on the Courtyard.

Marian, in turn, sat a little to the side, against the stone walls of the gallery, her eyes still wide with a mixture of horror and surprise and _joy_ and her skin was cold and pale. She seemed to have been stunned into utter silence.

When Robin collapsed after killing Guy, Much and Allan had tried to get closer to their leader, mostly out of habit than anything else, only to be stopped by John. After the young man was taken inside, they had just stood there, their minds reeling, until John returned and ordered them to handle the bewildered crowd (he was as amazed as everyone, but he recognised that there wasn't anything they could do until the King or Djaq or _anyone _told them what was going on and the peasants deserved some answers, even if the one that _should_ be giving them was currently incapacitated). And so they had gone around the crowd, trying to put their minds at ease and trying to explain something they couldn't understand themselves. But now the peasants were gone and the Outlaws had been waiting like that for at least an hour, nursing their different kinds of wounds (none of them the least bit life-threatening) mostly for lack of anything better to do. The real wound, the one that required a real treatment could not be dealt with until _someone_ decided gracing them with some sort of explanation as to why Robin Hood seemed to be very much alive and well, thank you very much.

"Please don't," Luke pleaded, pressing his hands to his temples. "I can't go through this just now –I have a terrible headache and I would rather you waited before opening Pandora's Box."

She ignored him, as usual. "No, really, I have to know," she turned to look at Allan. "Didn't you say Robin of Locksley was dead?"

The man turned his clear eyes and glared in her direction.

"He was? Oh, I must have forgotten then!" he spat sarcastically. "I was wondering where he'd gone."

"But he was!" Much cried, before Kate could tell Allan not to start anything with her because it was not her fault that his friend had just come back from the dead. He threw his arms in the air in frustration. "We were there, we saw it! For Christ sake, we even buried him!"

Much's words brought back a certain memory to Allan. The desert, two bodies, one half-dug grave...

"Well..."

"What?!"

"We didn't, technically," Allan reasoned slowly, his eyes far and unfocussed, as if he was re-watching the scene again. "Bury him, I mean," he explained.

"What are you talking about, of course we did!" his friend said exasperatedly. He was in no mood to deal with Allan being... well, Allan. "We took him to the grave-diggers' tent, we waited until the grave was done and then we–" he paused, his eyes wide in horror as the same realisation hit him. "Sweet mother of god, we didn't bury him!"

"What?" Luke asked curiously. "What happened?"

"We wanted to stay, obviously," Allan began, somehow defensively. He had a hunch that at least one person would try to blame them for Robin's fake death and he wasn't going to have any of that. He was all about owning up to his mistakes when he made them, but he wasn't going to pay for something that was certainly not his fault. "Much was the most vocal about it –said he couldn't leave until he knew his master was properly put to rest–, but we all agreed. He was our friend too, you know... But the grave wasn't done yet, and they also had to dig Carter's, so it got late and the King said we should all go back to the camp and let the men handle Robin. He said everything would be done properly and that we needn't worry. We ended up agreeing, because the desert is no place to be wandering around at night, and really, there wasn't much point in staying either. So we..."

"We left," Much finished breathlessly. "He was _alive_ and we left him there. Alone."

"It's not as if we knew, Much, did we? Djaq said he was done for, and honestly, he looked pretty done for to me."

"He was _alive_, Allan. Do you understand that? He was alive and we just left him there to rot. Oh, God. I think I'm going to be sick. Oh, God; oh, God; oh, God..."

For months Much had tried to convince himself that leaving Robin alone in the desert had been the right choice because there wasn't anything he could have possibly done for him anymore. It hadn't been easy –to this day he still woke up thinking that it had all been his fault, that he should have been there for Robin– but he was finally in a place where he could at least live with his decision. But now... Now Robin was alive and Much had just left him there and why had no-one told him of this before?!

"Much..."

Only John heard the small whisper that came from the side and turned his attention to the woman that sat there, still pale but with a new-found light shining brightly in her eyes.

"Much," she tried again, louder this time, still to no avail. She had to call his name four more times before he finally snapped out of his dark whirlwind that had become his mind and looked at her with tortured eyes. "He's alive," she stated simply.

Much was about to reassume his pacing (because really... what else was he supposed to do?) when she got to her feet and walked slowly towards him.

"Don't you see it?" she asked, placing a comforting hand on the man's cheek, her eyes locked with his. "_Robin. Is. Alive._"

Only when he heard it like that did he understand what she meant.

So he hadn't been there for Robin. Robin had been hurt and he hadn't been there to help him; he had _died _and he couldn't save him. Much would never be able to forgive himself, because it had been his _job _to keep his master safe and he had failed miserably. Except that now... Robin wasn't dead. He was here now; he had come back. He was _alive_ and he was _here_ and at the end of the day that was all that mattered.

"Robin is alive," he breathed. "He's alive. He really is alive."

Not even on his wildest dreams had he allowed himself to think of the possibility, knowing his heart wouldn't be strong enough to lose his friend again.

They smiled at each other, the first real smile each of them had sported in months and months.

"What are you two going on about?" Kate asked them, confused. Of course she didn't understand –only those who had the most important person in their lives torn from their side much too early could understand the joy of having them back.

"Robin is alive," Marian said again, her smile growing impossibly wider every time she said the words. "I thought –we all thought that that was it. That he was gone and that we would never get to see him again. But he _is here_. He is alive. _He came back_."

It was as if something clicked into place for Allan and John then, and their smiles quickly matched those of their friends.

"You're not mad then?" John asked curiously. He had expected more of a fight from her –he had expected her to be at Robin's throat already. But she seemed calmed –maybe _too _calm. He knew her well enough not to be fooled by her apparent ease. There was a storm brewing and they better be ready to intervene before Robin ended up dead for real, this time by Marian's hands rather than Gisborne's.

"_Mad_?" she snorted. That wasn't a big enough word to describe what she was feeling. "I'm livid! I will never, for as long as I live, forgive Robin for what he put me through." Her tone didn't quite match her words, though and the smile didn't leave her face at any time. "I'm mad and confused and a little terrified that this is all a dream. But, above everything else, I'm _happy_. Happier than I've been in months, and it's all because of him. He is here, and for the moment that is all I care about. There will be plenty of time for me to murder him."

She was certain that sooner rather than later she would want to kill Robin. She would also want answers –how had he done it? _why_ had he done it? whose idea was it that the Outlaws were left in the dark? was it really necessary to cause a scene in the Courtyard?, and several dozen more. But for now –for that one second– the only thing she cared about was that he was alive. For months that had been all she had dreamt about and now her dream had come true. She wasn't about to question how that had come to be.

For now.

Will and Djaq found them in a much better mood than they had expected them to be. They were all smiling and there was a certain lightness that the woman hadn't seen in them for the past two days. That lightness, however, somewhat disappeared when they felt them nearing.

Allan spotted them first and marched in their direction, his eyes shining with anger and betrayal and _maybe_ a little bit of amusement. His hand curled up in a fist on its own accord and he was about to unleash months of pent-up emotions in one punch against one of those he held responsible for such emotions, when he realised that this was _Djaq_, of all people. Now, Allan A Dale may have done some things he wasn't particularly proud of. He had lied, he had gotten into fights. He had even killed, occasionally, when he had to. But he had never –_ever_– punch a girl and Djaq, even with her short hair and her baggy clothes, was still a girl. So he changed course on the last second, and his fist collide against Will's cheek instead.

"Hey!" the young man cried indignantly.

"Allan!"

"You said he was dead," Allan reminded them, his eyes shifting from one to the other.

"I know! I know what I said and I'm _sorry_! I never thought..."

"What did you do, go back to him when we weren't looking?" Much asked, coming to stand next to his friend. He felt more betrayed than angry, because really _he_ of all people should have known that Robin was alive and the fact that no-one had thought of telling him hurt more than he could say with words. But, unlike Allan, he was too exhausted to do anything more than demand an explanation.

"Of course we didn't!" Will replied angrily, rubbing his sore cheek. "You know us better than that!"

"When we left for the King's Camp –and even later, when you two left for the port... We thought he was dead. _I_ thought he was dead. I never _imagined_ he could have survived loosing so much blood –he _shouldn't have survived_. It's a miracle he did –and it's even a greater miracle that someone noticed. He could have easily been buried and died a far worse death than the one we thought he did."

"We didn't know. Not for a week," Will added, guessing their next question. "We tried to tell you –_I _went after you– but you were already gone."

"A week?" Marian asked inquisitively, voicing what the others were also thinking. They hadn't been expecting that. Had Robin been alone for a whole week, fighting his way back to life?

Clearly, there had to be more to the story than what met the eye.

"Explain," John commanded. "_Everything_."

Djaq sighed and nodded.

"Sit down," Will said. "It's going to be a long story."

* * *

><p><strong>So, a little explanation of what's to come. Next chapter is going to be the flashback I've been teasing you with (it's where we'll learn what happened in the Holy Land while the Outlaws were busy mourning Robin). Then there's chapter 9, where there are several reunions and confrontations (I love chapter 9 almost as much as I loved chapter 6) and then there's an impossibly short epilogue (chapter 10). I'll try my very best to have it all uploaded before Christmas, because I'm going on holidays shortly thereafter and I would hate to keep you hanging for three weeks. So read this quickly!<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Hola a todos!**

**Sorry. I've been thinking in English so much lately that my mind needed to decompress a little bit. **

**I'm writing to you from my work computer behind my boss's back, so I'll try to keep this short. As usual, a thousand thank you to all of you who've reviewed this story, even those of you who were mean. You took the time to send me a few lines and I really apreciate that. **

**Special shout out to "Christine" who left me my review number 100 (I almost wept when I saw the number). Also, you're review means extra, because I'm delighted that at least ONE of Guy's fans doesn't want to kill me. **

**Also, another shout to Stitch. The review you left directed to all of those reviewers that were complaining about my decision to kill Guy was simply perfect and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It's one thing when an author says "If you don't like my story, then don't read it,"but to have a reader saying that too means the world. So again, thank. **

**And of course, those of you who review regularly and send me messages, thanks, really. You know who you are, so I'm not going to mention you because I'm kind of in a hurry and I'm afraid I will forget one of you. This last couple of days haven't been the easiest and your support has truly meant everything to me. I really wish I knew you in real life because I feel like giving each and everyone of you a hug. **

**Muchísimas gracias de todo corazón. En serio. Son todo. **

* * *

><p><strong>PART VIII<strong>

It was just after dawn when the men woke up. This was no unusual for either of them, the extreme weather in the desert making it impossible for them to work at any other time –it was too hot during daytime and too cold at night. What _was_ unusual though was this particular assignment.

There hadn't been much for them to do lately. With King Richard and Saladin talking peace, the fights had become less frequent. No fights meant no deaths and no deaths meant no graves. And no graves meant that the gravediggers had had very little to do for the past couple of weeks.

That had changed, however, the day before.

Everything about that day had been unexpected. The sudden appearance of King Richard himself, surrounded by a group of men none of them had ever even heard of and a Saracen woman had shocked them beyond words. And then, when they had recognised Robin of Locksley in one of the bodies that they were to burry...

They had both been in the Holy Land for a long time, so they had both heard of Robin of Locksley, had even talked to him a few times –the guy had told the best stories, including several featuring a certain Lady Marian, who he didn't seem to be able to shut up about. They had heard great stories _about_ him too, including the one time when he had almost single-handedly prevented a Saracen attack on the King. They had also heard of him going back home.

Neither of them could understand how he had suddenly gotten himself back in the Holy Land. Dead. No explanation was given and propriety prevented them from asking the King directly. They were simply instructed to dig two graves and that's what they hastily set out to do.

Four people had come with the King, each more heartbroken than the last one. One of them recognised Much, Robin's manservant, as the one who kept clutching to Robin's clothes and sobbing loudly against his chest, and his curiosity peaked even more.

Progress was made very, very slowly, and by the time the sun began to set they were only halfway through the first grave.

The King, who had uncharacteristically stayed throughout the process, eventually suggested they all went back to their camp. This, of course, was vehemently resisted at first, but as soon as it was made clear to them that they wouldn't be able to make their way through the desert at night and that they simply couldn't all stay in that little tent the gravediggers had for themselves, they had had no choice but agree, however reluctantly, and follow their King. They had said goodbye to their friend –long, tearful goodbyes that had made the men uncomfortable to watch– and they had left.

King Richard himself had addressed both gravediggers directly before leaving and instructed them to take care of both bodies immediately, since both of the men who had died that day were heroes that deserved to be put to rest.

They had finished the first grave shortly before midnight and mutely agreed to take care of the other one in the morning. A night, they thought, would make no difference to either man's eternal sleep.

They had chosen to bury Carter first simply because he was the closest, nothing else. They would both come to be very thankful of that choice. They had moved the other body into their little tent to protect him from vultures and gone to bed.

So, the next day, they both woke up early and set to work. When they deemed the grave to be deep enough, they flipped a coin to decide which one of them would have to do all the heavy lifting and bring the body from the tent.

The youngest of the two men grunted and complained as he walked back into their tent, not looking forward to the difficult task that awaited him. He had had to move enough bodies in the past couple of years to know how complicated a task it was to be done without help, but his companion simply chuckled as he watched him go.

As soon as he grabbed Robin's wrist he knew that something was amiss, though he couldn't say what it was exactly at first. It just felt different for some reason. It took him a moment to realise that the skin that met his fingers was much warmer than he had expected it to be. When he did, he let go of it in surprise, amazed when the arm fell limply to the ground –in his experience, dead bodies didn't move so easily, especially not the ones that had been dead for as long as this one.

He called after his companion to come and take a look, but the man would not hear of it.

"Oh, no. I know what you're trying to do. You want me to go there to help you. Well, that's not going to happen."

"I don't think I can move him," the young man insisted.

"Well, you're going to have to figure out a way to do it. He's not _that_ heavy anyway."

"I meant I don't think we can bury him. I don't think he's dead."

The older man didn't say anything for a while, too stunned to think of a proper come back.

"Don't be daft!"

"I'm not! I swear. Look!"

"If this is all just a trick to get me to help you, I swear to God..." the man muttered as he made his way back to the tent. "You'll be sleeping outside tonight," he finished once inside.

"It's not. Look."

The man kneeled before the young nobleman who was supposed to be buried by now. He certainly _looked_ dead –he was as pale as a corpse–, but he didn't _feel_ dead. It was true that his skin was warm, perhaps even too warm. One could argue that it was a warm day, but not inside the tent, not enough to heat him this much. Besides, even if they _could_ find an explanation to the heat, they definitely couldn't explain why his body was still flaccid when he should be rigid by now.

No, there was definitely something very strange about this particular corpse.

The young man looked expectantly at his companion to tell him what to do.

"We can't bury him," he insisted after a while, when it became clear his friend was stunned beyond words.

"I don't know," the old man replied. "Even if he's not dead right now, he's going to be soon enough."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Oh, come on! Look at him!"

"Yeah, I'm looking! He should be dead, but he's not. What does that tell you?"

"That there must be some powerful sorcery behind this and we would be better getting rid of him as soon as possible."

"This is Robin of Locksley! If ever was a man capable of surviving a mortal wound like this one, that man is him."

"What do suggest we do? Keep him here until he miraculously gets better?"

That, the young man soon realised, was out of the question. Because, even if Robin of Locksley was not dead right now, he was still severely injured and in dire need of medical attention. The best course of action would be sending for help. They quickly agreed that the best person to deal with such a situation was King Richard himself, so the older man set out towards the camp in hopes of finding him there.

The young man carefully moved Robin deeper into the tent and placed him on his own bunk in an attempt to make him more comfortable until help arrived.

Getting to the King's camp took the man a few hours, and it was even longer before he could locate and approach the King. Richard was not happy to see him, and as he stumbled over his words, trying to explain the impossible turn of events, he grew more and more confused.

"You're saying he's alive?"

"Well, he was when I left, but he wasn't looking so good, so I don't know. You should come, though. And bring help."

As unlikely as that was, Richard was certainly not going to pass on an opportunity to help his young friend. After everything he had done for him, the least he could do was make sure he was really dead. So he called upon his personal physician and the three of them rode back to the improvised cemetery.

They found Robin like he had been before –pale and unresponsive, but also warm and limp. Both gravediggers and the King waited outside the tent while the physician conducted his thorough examination. Finally, after an exasperatedly long while, the man emerged.

"I don't know what happened," he announced. "I've seen men dying from wounds half as bad as his, and yet somehow he didn't."

"He's alive?"

"Barely. He must have lost conscious due to all the blood he lost, that's why you believed him to be dead. The cold temperatures at night must have kept his body protected and gave the wound a chance to start healing."

"When will he awake?"

"Sadly, I don't know. I'm not even certain he _will_ awake –there's no way of knowing how much damage was done and whether it can be reversed. He's running a fever too, so we'll have to wait until it breaks before we can know anything for sure. All I can say is that he shouldn't have survived, and yet he did. Maybe that means something."

"What can we do?" the King asked.

"There isn't much to be done, at least not for now. I'm not comfortable with him moving, so he's going to have to stay here for a while. I'll come and check on him every day, but he's going to need someone looking over him constantly, lest his condition change in any way."

"We'll do that," the younger gravedigger agreed.

"I'll show how to handle his bandages and what to do in the off case he wakes up," the physician told him.

"What about his friends?" the other man asked. "They could help too."

The King nodded.

"They left my camp this morning and it was my understanding that they wanted to go back to England right away, but I will send someone immediately to Acre. One of them had relatives there; it's possible they haven't left yet."

Finding the Outlaws was hard. The King's men couldn't just go to Acre and knock on every door just expecting one of them to answer. They didn't have much to go on, either. Just a name: Djaq. As a result, it was about a week after Vaisey's ambush that they finally found a man named Bassan who had been seen in contact with a few English men.

When the guards finally found his house, he was reluctant to cooperate with them, but when he was informed that the King himself was eager to talk to anyone from Robin's party he reluctantly agreed to pass the message to his niece and let her decide what she wanted to do.

Will and Djaq were shocked that the King had requested for them to go and see him, and a little reluctant to answer the call. It was Will, however, who reasoned that they couldn't just ignore him, for there must be something very important behind such a call.

They rode into the desert and quickly arrived at the King's camp. The man had left strict instructions with his guards for them to be shown directly into his tent, so they didn't have to wait long. However, the King was reluctant to tell them anything there, and instead instructed them to follow him.

They were both surprised to find themselves back at the small part of the desert that served as cemetery and not the least bit excited about being there. The King told them to wait for him for a moment while he checked on something inside the tent. They just stood there in awkward silence, gazing at the few freshly-dug graves and trying not to think about their friend who must certainly be buried there.

"Okay, there's something you should know," the King eventually said as he stepped out of the tent.

And then he told them the most amazing story about how Robin hadn't really died and had instead spent the last week battling for his life in that little tent.

The words hanged in the air for a few moments before either of them could fully understand them. It was Djaq who did first, and when she addressed the King she was as angry as she was hurt.

"That is not possible," she croaked. "Robin is dead. I checked him myself."

"That is what we thought –what we _all_ thought. But I can assure you, he's not. He's very weak and in no means out of danger, but he's a fighter and he's been fighting for the last week to survive. You can check for yourselves if you like."

Will barged past the sovereign into the tent, closely followed by Djaq. And, surely enough, there was Robin. His skin was slightly less pale than it had been when they saw him last and they could clearly hear his laboured breaths now, but they were still reluctant to accept that he was really there.

"How is this even possible?" Will asked, mostly to himself.

Djaq just shook her head as her hands flew over her friend's body, checking for a pulse. She let out a dry sob as she felt it and turned her shinny eyes to Will.

"It's a miracle," she said.

It was quickly agreed that the woman would stay, at the very least until Robin was strong enough to be moved. The physician continued to come every day and together with Djaq they tended to Robin. Will set out immediately towards port in hopes of catching up with Allan and Much before they set sail, but returned a few days later unsuccessful. He stayed at the tent with Djaq after that. (Another tent, bigger and with every luxury available in the desert had been set for the gravediggers as a 'thank you' for what they had done for Robin).

It was several weeks before anyone felt comfortable trying any sort of move, but the physician finally determined that Robin was as strong as he would be for a at least a while, so they decided to go with Djaq's plan and took him to Bassan's, where she felt she could take a better care of him. The physician was a little weary at first, but King Richard decided that he had the utmost trust in the Saracen woman to care for Robin.

The road to recovery was long and steep. There were many a night when Will and Djaq would retire for bed thinking that they would return to find their friend dead by the morning, but they never had. Robin fought restlessly and finally, one morning as Will was changing his bandages, he opened his eyes, scaring his friend half to death –he had all but given up by now.

The first few days were spent in a sort of limbo: though his eyes were opened, he wasn't yet fully awake and very little of what they told him seemed to stick in his mind. But that too came to pass. He got stronger and stronger with each passing day and sooner than anyone could have hoped for, he was back.

He wasn't happy when Will told him that Much and Allan had already left for England, and he even tried to get out of the bed. But his body was too weak, and he ended up collapsing on the floor before anyone could catch him. Will had to drag him back to bed and Djaq had to give him a potion for him to sleep. The next few days went by in a similar fashion: Robin's waking hours were spent inquiring about everything and everyone, and he inevitably ended up trying to get out of bed every time he heard something he didn't like. Djaq had to restock her supplies of herbs, since she was using so much of them on her friend.

Progress was made much more slowly during those days, basically due to Robin's inability to stay put during the hours when he was awake. It was only by reminding him that he needed to get better if he ever hoped to go back to England that they eventually managed to subdue him a little bit. But while his body remained in place, his mind was reeling. He thought about his friends and his peasants. He thought of Vaisey and Gisborne. He thought of poor, _poor _Much, who had had to say goodbye to his best friend and of Allan too. He thought of John –of the promise he had made to him and almost couldn't live up to. And he thought of Marian. Repeatedly. He thought of her all alone in Sussex (hopefully), waiting for him... He had to go back. For all of them. They _needed _him to go back.

In a few weeks he was finally able to stand, and in a few more he was taking small steps around the room.

"You must have someone that really loves you in Heaven," Djaq commented as she watched him slowly taking a turn around the room. It really was a miracle that he was already up and about. Honestly, she would never cease to be amazed.

"Or hates me and doesn't want to see me yet," he chuckled.

"Yeah, that too..."

He completed the turn and sat back on the bed, trying his best not to wince in pain. He had something he wanted to discuss with his friend and it would be better if she thought he was in better shape than he really was.

"Listen, Djaq. I've been thinking..."

"The answer's no."

"How do you even know what I was going to ask?"

"Because I know you. I know how you think. You're going to ask me something outrageous."

"I was not," he said indignantly.

"Weren't you going to ask me something about England?" she challenged, her eyebrow raised.

"Well, yes. But it's not what you think."

"It doesn't matter, the answer is still no. You're not strong enough to travel yet, Robin. You may think I can't see you're in pain, but that's not the case. And besides, your wound is only half healed. It can be infected if it's not treated well."

"I know! That's why I wasn't going to ask you to let me _go_."

"What were you going to ask me, then?"

"You'll agree that it's unfair that the lads back home think me dead when I'm obviously _not_, right? I may be a little foggy on the details, but I seem to recall Much being particularly distraught about my death. He deserves to be put out of his misery. Now, ideally I would prefer to go and tell him myself. But since I trust your judgment –even though you're wrong, because I'm perfectly fine–, I'll settle with sending them a few lines."

"Robin..."

"Oh, come on! If I can walk around the room, I certainly can pick up a quill!

"Yes, of course you can. But do you really think it's wise? Or fair to them?"

"What do you mean _fair_? Of course it is! They will want to know –they deserve to know."

Djaq came to sit next to him on the bed and took his hands in hers.

"They do," she agreed. "But not like this."

"What do you mean?"

"Suppose you write to them. They are going to get the letter in a few weeks time. You will still be in no condition to travel then –that's going to take a few months still. We'll also need time to find you a perfect ship for your journey, preferably one that carries a physician, or at the very least an ample stock of medical supplies. I will be going with you, but I'll need the right instruments. All in all, it's going to be some months between your letter gets to the lads and you can even think about travelling. Do you really think it's fair to them? Wouldn't it be better if they knew when you were already on your way?"

Robin thought about it for a while. She _did_ have a point. Much would never agree to wait for months for his return –he'd be constantly on edge, and he really deserved better than that. Also, he might be tempted to come to him, and they'd probably end up missing each other completely.

He sighed and Djaq knew she had won _that_ argument.

"When, then?" he asked her suddenly. "When can I write to them?"

She thought about it for a moment and gave him a milestone she deemed far enough in the future, but that would still seem obtainable to him.

"How about... when you can climb a flight of stairs without exhausting yourself. When you achieve that, we can start trying to find a ship and you can write home."

"It's a deal, then." They shook hands to seal the deal. "So..." he commented a few moments later. "You're coming back too?" he asked casually.

She smiled slightly.

"I was beginning to think you hadn't caught that. I'm going back. I've come to the conclusion that this isn't my home anymore. I belong in Sherwood."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I've ever been about anything."

"Does Will know?"

"Not yet. I figured I would have enough dealing with _your_ desire to go home. I didn't want to add Will's too."

Robin was sure that a flight of stairs wouldn't be that much of an opponent to him. He was wrong. For starters, it was several days before Djaq allowed him out of his room, let alone anywhere _near_ the stairs. And then, when he could finally try, he never made it past the first step. Also, she had made him promise before they even began that he would do as she instructed, so he wasn't allowed out of the bed every day, as he would have liked.

When the King came back to visit him (he had sent a messenger every week, but some important business had made it impossible for him to visit his young friend personally until that moment) he was still nowhere near the goal that had been set for him.

Richard was overjoyed to see him up and about and thanked Bassam very warmly for his hospitality. He joked good-naturedly with his young commander and teasingly ordered him not to put them through any of that ever again. It seemed like an innocent enough visit –a reunion of two long-lost friends. That, however, wasn't the entirely the case, as they would soon learn, when the King's true motives became clear a few minutes later.

"I have a confession to make," he told Robin as the two sat together in the living room at Bassan's –Djaq had had to agree to let him out of his room, though he had overworked himself the day before and she would have rather he rested for a while longer. "I have another motive to rejoice at your wellbeing."

"Oh. And what may that be?" the young man asked curiously.

"War has ended," he announced without preamble, much to Robin's delight. "Saladin and I have reached an agreement. We'll be going home soon."

"Well, that is great news!"

"It is, indeed." He paused for a moment. "Listen, Robin, there's something I wanted to ask you. We are going back to England soon and you more than anyone must realise that the country we have left is not the one we are coming back to. Our enemies are hiding among our friends, waiting for the right time to make their move. I need your help. You alone can end the war back at home."

It was the right thing to say. If Robin had felt any sort of qualms about following King Richard on this latest quest, having his vanity appealed to would have certainly changed his mind. But it was useless in this case, because Robin didn't need the incentive. He had already agreed to go with him even before he was even invited.

"When do we leave?" he asked.

"Not for a while, I'm afraid. There are a few things that need to be sorted out: we need to regroup our troops, find a ship that will take us and so on. We have to proceed with caution, so it would be best if we came up with a plan even before we left Acre. All those things take time. Besides," he added, casting a glance in Djaq's direction –she hadn't said a word yet, but clearly she wasn't pleased with either of them. "–I want you to have all of your strength back before we go. It would really be a shame if Djaq went through all of the trouble to saving your life only to have you die at sea. I can't believe she will be too happy with me if that were the case."

"I'm fine."

"Robin, do you remember our agreement?" the Saracen pressed.

"I will keep my promise, Djaq."

And he did. As soon as the King left, Robin marched towards the stairs, determined to prove to all of them that he really was fine. Will went after him to make sure he didn't hurt himself, but he couldn't do more than watch him and catch him every time he stumbled over his feet.

"That's enough for today, maybe you should rest..."

"I'll rest when I'm dead."

"If you don't rest, you'll be dead soon..."

"Quit it, Will. I've got this."

For the next few days, Robin spent every waking hour in Bassan's living room, trying to drag his body up the stairs. He would only pause to eat, and that was only because Will made him and he took the food to him. Djaq was starting to get worried about him, fearing that he was doing himself more harm than good.

"You should talk to the King when he comes tomorrow. I'm sure he will wait for Robin if you tell him he's not ready yet," Will reasoned when she shared her fears with him, two weeks later. Richard had sent someone to inform them that he was ready to leave when they were and had agreed to come by the house the next day. "He's fairly reasonable, and he loves Robin. He won't want to put him in danger."

"It's Robin who I'm worried about. The King has already put off his trip for Robin's sake (I don't buy for a second that he needed two weeks to sort things out) and I'm sure he'd do it again if I told him we need more time. But Robin is not going to stop pushing himself and I'm afraid he's going to get hurt."

Will was about to point out that their friend was well aware of his limits and he wouldn't push himself to the breaking point –it would take him that much longer to get better if he did– when they heard a cry coming from the living room's general direction. Exchanging a worried look, they ran out of the room, only to find the parlour completely deserted.

"Well then..." Robin's familiar voice commented lightly as they turned their heads. He was on the first floor, leaning casually against the banister. He looked pale and tired, but his eyes shone with triumph. "It would seem as if we're going back home, don't you think?"

Anxious as they were, Will and Dajq couldn't help but smile at him.

When Richard came the next day, he was genuinely surprised to see Robin looking almost like his old self. His movements were still slow, but there was a certain cheerfulness that had been absent for many months.

"Ready to go, then?" he asked his young friend.

"Yes. All I have to do is put the finishing touches on the letter to the lads and then I'll be all yours," he commented lightly.

"Yes, about that... Listen, Robin... You already know that our mission must remain absolutely secret. We can't risk our enemies knowing we're coming, or else they'll be ready for us."

"I know. That's why I won't tell them you're coming –though, for the record, I trust they'd keep the secret if they needed to."

"I trust them too. I'm just worried that your letter may fall in the wrong hands and our whole plan will be compromised."

It was a very sensible concern, but that didn't make it any more bearable to Robin.

"Cheer up, mate. This way you will get to see their faces when they learn the truth" Will reminded him. This made things marginally better, but Robin would still have rather announced his survival beforehand. He hated to think that people had been suffering on his behalf when he had been relatively well all this time.

Preparations were made and soon the day for their journey came.

Robin watched from the deck of the ship as everybody ran around getting everything ready –Djaq had told him before they left Bassan's that if he expected to her to clear him for duty when they docked, he would have to do exactly as she told him, including staying out of the way–, one thought and one thought only in his mind.

"I'm coming home, lads."

* * *

><p><strong>Two more chapters to go... Is it weird that I'm sad? I'm going to miss this... <strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Little known fact about me... I hate Christmas. I know it's almost as big a cliché to say that one hates Christmas as it is to say one loves it, but in my case it's true. You'd understand why I feel like this if you knew some of my family, but whatever. Honestly, if it were for me, I would go to bed at the beginning of December and wake up in January, but sadly that's impossible -at least for now.**

**The reason why I'm telling you this is to explain why this chapter is a little later than usual. This past week hasn't been the best for me, so it was really hard working on this chapter, because it was supposed to be lighter than the rest and I was in no mood to write anything of the sort. Also, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I was nervous about what you all would have to say about Robin's and Marian's reunion. I'm quite pleased with what came out in the end, even if it's a little on the angsty side still. **

**Thank you all so very, _very _much to those of you who've reviewed and sent me messages. I really mean it when I say that you really helped me getting through one hellish week. I've also been sort of busy, so I have a few messages to reply to. Those of you who haven't heard from me lately: I'm sorry; I will get back to all of you as soon as I can. I will also upload the epilogue momentarily. I need to do a few things around the house first, but it shouldn't be long. Fair warning, it's _really _short.**

**I hope you all had a great Christmas. Sorry for the delay, again.**

* * *

><p><strong>PART IX<strong>

Just like Djaq had predicted, Robin slept for many hours. She checked on him regularly but never once allowed Much or Marian to go with her, much as both of them insisted otherwise. There wasn't anything for them to do for him, knocked out as he was, and if they were to be there when he awoke they would end up exciting him further and all the progress he may have accomplished while asleep would be for nothing. (She had even dispatched the two guards that had been assigned to keep watch over Robin, knowing they would be of very little use).

"You can see him when he awakes," she told them both firmly, effectively putting an end to their discussion.

At some point someone suggested they went back to the camp, but the will to move was not something any of them could find within themselves. So they spent the next few hours at different parts of the castle, basically trying to keep busy for a while.

Will and Djaq, who had had very little rest during the past few weeks, sat themselves on the stone steps on the Courtyard, simply basking in the glory of being back home. Luke and Kate joined them for a while before embarking on a quest towards the kitchen in search for something to eat. Not one to particularly enjoy sitting idly waiting for things to happen, Allan went to see if he could make himself useful to King Richard, taking John with him. Marian remained at the courtyard, at times practicing with her arrows, at time sitting with her friends, but always rooted to the spot, lest Robin awake and come to find her. Much kept watch over her, as he had kept for the past couple of months, until he couldn't take it any longer.

"I'll be right back," he announced, jumping to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Marian asked him, surprised that he of all people would bail.

"There's something I need to do."

He returned an hour or so later, carrying a small pile of fabric that he passed to Djaq.

"His are torn," he offered as means of explanation as the woman unfolded one of Robin's favourite hoodies, a small smile playing at her lips. "Besides, I think he would be more comfortable with these." Dressed as a trader as he had been, Robin didn't look like himself –and Much wanted him to look like himself. Much wanted him to be back.

Djaq nodded and took the clothes the next time she went to check on Robin.

The rest of the day was spent much in the same fashion. At downfall, rooms were assigned to the Outlaws in case they wanted to lie down for a while. None of them took them, though, and the ones who did sleep chose to do so in the gallery or the great hall, where they could be sure they would hear any news about their friend.

It was a little after dawn when Robin finally began to stir.

He laid in the bed for a few moments as his body and his mind fought against the last of Djaq's draught. When he was fully awake, he got carefully out of bed and surveyed his body. There were some new bruises forming as well as a few cuts, but overall he appeared to be relatively unscratched. He had certainly been worse. Even his arm didn't hurt as much as it could.

His fingers instinctively found his old scar –the source of so much pain for the past months– and he was surprised when he found that most of his torso was wrapped in tight bandages. He smiled as he realised that Djaq had taken advantage of the ample stock of medical supplies available in Nottingham –she had generally had to make do with very little. He was even more surprised as he took a hesitant step forward and found that the wound didn't bother him at all. (That was certainly a first: though it was healed now and didn't hurt him like it had at the beginning, the scar had still throbbed occasionally, causing in Robin more discomfort than anything else).

Someone had left a jar and a basin for him to wash with on a nearby table, so he slowly made his way towards it.

He removed his shirt, took a damp cloth and careful not to soak his bandages, he washed the blood that was not just his own but probably Gisborne's from his body. Once he was sure he had gotten all of it, he glanced back at the shirt he had carelessly tossed on the floor and winced. No use in getting the blood of his body if he would still have to wear bloody clothes, he reflected angrily. Sadly, it would appear he didn't have a choice, for he could hardly parade around the castle half naked. Then again, if he was aiming to cause a scene, that would certainly ought to do. He was chuckling softly when his eyes caught something laying on the bed.

"Oh, Much..." he whispered as he unfolded the green hoodie he had worn for many an adventure while he was Robin Hood. "What would I do without you?" he added fondly, as if he expected his friend to be standing right behind him –like he usually was.

Other than Marian, Much had been on Robin's mind the most. He had often dreamt of his tortured expression as he held his hand when he died, more than he had ever dreamt about Marian's angry expression when he told her he was leaving for the Holy Land. He had heard him calling his name, pleading him not to go away, not to die –not to leave him... He had felt his pain as it if were his own and had shivered at the mere thought of what his friend must have gone through as he made his way back to England, accompanied only by a man he didn't fully trust and who couldn't understand what he was going through –no one could, because no one had meant to anyone what Robin had meant to Much.

Hurting Much was not something the young Lord had ever set out to do on purpose, and yet it was something that had happened several times. But Much had always remained, always faithful, always loyal... He really was a better friend than Robin deserved.

He made a decision then, as he tried to get the new shirt on his body with as little pain as he could. Much as his whole body was aching to get closer to Marian, he would find Much first. After all, it had been in his arms that he had died, he who had saved his life when Gisborne could have easily ended it for him. Much deserved to know first –even above Marian.

Getting ready took slightly more time than he had expected, mostly because every movement he made was measured and contrived. When he finally felt somewhat pleased with the way he looked, he emerged from his room.

The hallway was deserted as he made his way slowly to the Courtyard. Everyone seemed to be too busy or too tired to care about him, which was actually pretty good news. He was fairly certain he was not supposed to be wandering about the castle in his condition be he simply couldn't bring himself to care.

Judging by the time of the day, it was safe to assume that everybody would be down the great hall having breakfast. This could be a problem, Robin thought, because though he was certain he would find the one he was looking for there, he was really hoping they could have a few words alone before he had to report back to the King. Bursting into a crowded room would not play well with his plan, but he couldn't really see a way around it. All he could do was hope the King didn't take offence when he favoured his former manservant before him. (And if he did, so be it; he wasn't about to change his mind anyway).

As it turned out, Robin needn't have worried about getting to his friends before the King got to him, because as he turned a corner he ended up literally crashing into them.

Well, one of them.

Unbeknown to Djaq, Much had followed her on one of her frequent visits to Robin's chamber, so he had a pretty good idea of where he was. He hadn't originally planned to go to check on him, he had just wanted to know where he was –just in case. It was comforting. But it had been hours, and Much was starting to grow impatient. Additionally, he had noticed that it had been a few hours since the Saracen woman had last checked on their friend, and he was worried about him. Maybe he was awake and needed some assistance. So he had decided to check on him –one peek and that would be it. Just to be safe.

He had never expected Robin to be out of the room already, and much less that he would be trying to find him. He never saw him coming.

The force of the impact was such that Robin felt all the wind being knocked out of him and he bent over trying to catch his breath. The other man, in turn, bounced against Robin's chest, lost his balance and fell to the ground, the jar he had been carrying shattering to pieces next to him.

The man began to blabber an apology so fast that Robin, stunned as he was, had some trouble catching it. When his brain could finally make some sense of the words –and, more importantly, of the _voice_ uttering those words–, he looked up, half amazed, half overjoyed at his good fortune.

"Much," he said, still a little hoarsely from the last blow. The man didn't hear him.

"-pay more attention where I'm going, I know..." the man continued, getting to his feet and looking at the mess he had just caused.

"Much," Robin tried again, a small smile playing at his lips. Much looked incredibly like Much at that moment, and he couldn't be any happier about it. This was just what he needed –what he had missed so, so _very _much while he was away.

"I'll clean this up immediately, don't you worry. I'll get a mop and..."

"_Much!_" Much stopped rambling and turned his blue eyes to him. "It's me," he added unnecessarily.

The man stared at him for a long moment, his eyes wide in shock.

"It's you," he choked. "You're here. I mean," he added, trying to get his thoughts in some semblance of order. "I knew you were here, I just didn't know you were _here_. _Awake_, I meant awake. I didn't know you were... I was just..."

"Much?"

"Yes?"

Robin meant to tell him how much he had missed him, how glad he was to see him again. How incredibly sorry he was for putting him through moths of pain. However, in that moment words failed him, and all he could do was reach out, grab Much's wrist and pull him into a tight embrace.

To say the former manservant was surprised at this sudden display of affection would be an understatement, and for a few seconds he just stood awkwardly there. But then he realised that this was _Robin_, and that he was _alive_ and that he was hugging him and he promptly hugged him back.

"You're alive," he breathed, his voice thick with tears. Not that he didn't know that already, but being in his arms made everything much more real.

"I'm so sorry, Much, you have to know that!" Robin replied, his eyes too filled with tears. "I _never_ intended to put you through all of that. When I thought of Allan and you on that ship, alone... When I imagined you having to break the news to everyone here..."

It wasn't an every-day occurrence that Robin was at a loss for words, but today he was. Because he knew –whatever he said, whatever words passed through his lips, they would never be enough to make up for what he had done.

He had crossed a line and there was every possibility that he wouldn't be able to turn back now.

Much, knowing Robin like he did, realised at once what kind of thoughts plagued at his young master's mind and tightened his grip around his shoulder.

"You were dead," he said softly, trying to put him at ease. "You died and we said goodbye to you. We put you to rest –or at least we thought so– and we came back. We carried on with your legacy, just as you would have wanted us to; we fought. We were Robin Hood, like you asked us to be," he paused for a moment while he considered how to proceed. "We never forgot you, Robin; we never gave you up. Every ploy we came up with, every ambush we carried... You were always there. With us. And yesterday, when the King returned... We weren't fighting for him, Robin –you have to see that. We did it for you –all of it."

For the first time in their lives it was Much who tried to keep a cool head while Robin stood in the brink of hysteria –if the situation hadn't been so monumental both men would have probably laughed a little at the irony. As it was, Robin could only stand there and stare at Much, fear and hope battling for dominance in his heart and in his green eyes.

"The King's return may be _your_ reward for everything you did for England, but for us... Robin, it's you! _Your_ return! The fact that you are here... Nothing will ever beat that. _Ever_." Much finished, willing his friend to see it –to see that no one would have minded if Richard hadn't return, as long as Robin was there.

"But..." Robin whispered, hope beginning to push ahead. "All these months..."

"Were hell," Much agreed. "So, please, try not to put us through that again, will you? I don't think I can bear to watch you die a _third _time."

Though it was said as a joke, Robin could clearly feel Much's pain in those few words.

"I wouldn't dream of doing that again, Much."

"Good. Now, what do you say if we go get some breakfast? You must be starving! And look at yourself! You're too thin. I bet you were so caught up with your plan that you've been skipping meals again."

Robin laughed good-naturedly this time.

"You know me too well, Much."

They began making their way to the great hall, Much filling him in on what he had missed, both during the past few months in general and the last few hours in particular. He was so caught up in his story that he didn't at first realised when Robin came to an abrupt halt, distracted as he was by a sudden flash of brown. When he noticed that Robin's steps could no longer be heard he turned around and found his master standing in the middle of the gallery, looking intently at something in the Courtyard. He followed his gaze even though he had a pretty good idea of what it was that had him so completely hypnotised.

Marian stood with her back to them, her body tense as she shot arrow after arrow at the opposite wall. (Much had learned some time ago that this was her means of coping with frustration –a habit she had picked from Robin himself, apparently). Robin took advantage of her apparent lack of awareness towards them to look at her and marvel at the miracle of her presence.

"She's going to kill me," he whispered to Much as she shot yet another arrow.

"I don't _think_ so. She already knows what life without you is like and I doubt she will _willingly_ put herself through that again. But she's not going to be happy, and you know how she is when she's angry... So, yeah, she'll probably want to kill you."

Robin chuckled humourlessly.

"Thanks, Much. I feel so much better now."

His friend patted him in the back.

"It will pass. It's not the first time she's thought you dead, and it all ended up working for the best the first time around." He cast a glance towards the door to the great hall and then he added, more seriously this time. "You need to talk to her. I'll tell the lads that you are alright and that you'll go talk to them in a few minutes. Is that okay?"

Robin nodded his approval, his eyes never leaving the woman he hoped to make his wife very soon. That is, if she didn't murder him within the next few minutes.

He waited until he heard the door closing behind Much and slowly made his way towards Marian. He had hoped he would hear him approaching and she would turn around. She didn't, though he could tell he knew he was coming –her whole body had tensed as soon as he had stepped into the Courtyard.

He stood there, wondering what to say. He wanted to banter with her –to fall back to their old ways– but in his heart he knew that that would not be possible. They had to clear the air before they could move forward. However, it was her who broke the silence.

"Sussex?" she asked nonchalantly as she poised another arrow in place.

Robin smiled, relieved that this was how she had chosen to start their conversation. He wasn't ready for another heart to heart yet, not so soon after the one he had had with Much.

"I hear it's lovely this time of the year," he commented lightly.

Marian's lip twitched imperceptibly.

"So is Sherwood."

"Sussex doesn't have an evil sheriff plotting against the King."

"True," she granted. "One should probably be able to make a nice peaceful life for oneself in Sussex. Then again, where would be the fun in that?"

He chuckled as he heard his own words casually thrown back at him.

"Where, indeed. You still should have gone," he added after another moment spent in silence. "To Sussex. I would have gone after you."

"Interesting theory," she said coldly, anger suddenly getting the best of her. "When exactly would have been that? Before or after you got yourself _killed_?"

The way she spat the last word made him flinch.

"I'm here, aren't I?" he countered.

"Yes, you are," she whispered pensively. She had promised herself she would not get angry at him –at least not immediately. She released the arrow she had been holding as a way to release her emotions and poised another one in place.

"You still should have gone to your cousin's," he said.

"And you shouldn't have gone to the Holy Land," she replied with a smile, expecting him to feed her his usual speech about loyalty and duty and whatnot.

He didn't, though.

"You're right. I shouldn't have gone to the Holy Land," he agreed. His response was completely unexpected, and not at all what Marian needed at the moment. She had meant for them to fall back into their usual patterns –some casual banter, with some veiled declarations of endless love thrown in the mix. But Robin was obviously not the same man he had been once upon a time, and try as he may he couldn't go back to his old ways. He needed her to know the truth, even if that meant opening himself up for the second time in less than an hour. "I made a choice eight years ago to leave you, and it was the wrong one. If I had stayed, then maybe things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand and the King would have never been in danger. But I left and everything here went to Hell. It was wrong of me to leave the first time, but it wasn't wrong to leave the second time. I had to fix the mess I had inadvertently helped create."

She listened to him in silence, surprised at this sudden change. Robin had never been one to own up to any kind in mistake, so to hear him say he regretted something he had done –especially something he had always claimed to be proud of – was certainly unexpected.

"You saved the King," she heard herself say. Oddly enough she was now trying to praise Robin for his actions, something she had never done before. But she had changed too –just as much as he had. She had a much better understanding of many things now, including of Robin's character: she knew that there was more to him that a boy who had escaped his responsibilities at home by joining a war he had no business in. He was a tortured soul, always putting the "greater good" above his own happiness –that's why he had joined the King's Private Guard, that's why he had saved Allan and Will and Luke when they were to be hanged, getting himself outlawed, that's why he had left again without saying goodbye, and why he had come back behind everyone's back. He had always tried to do the right thing, even when things ended up not working for the best for him.

Marian hadn't seen that at first, stubborn as she was. But she did now.

"Yes, but at what price? My peasants couldn't have cared less about the King's wellbeing as they starved in the winter thanks to Gisborne's cruelty. I should have protected _them_."

"And you did –once you came back. You made things right again. That's what counts."

"I could have lost you," he said tensely. "When I returned the first time, you could have been married or betrothed or _gone_..." he trailed of, the horror of that hypothetical scenario too much to bear.

"I was still here," she reminded him.

He continued as if he hadn't heard her.

"And now..." he sighed. So much for not wanting to have a heart to heart with her yet. "You have every right to be mad, Marian, I get it. But please, you have to know that everything I did was for you. You deserve better than living prisoner in a castle, with Gisborne breathing down your neck... You shouldn't have to risk your own neck to prevent your people from going hungry. I went to the Holy Land to prevent Vaisey from killing the King because I wanted _you_ to have a better England. I brought him back _for you. _Surely, you must know that..."

She did. She really did. He would do anything for those he loved.

"_We find Lardner, we bring the King home and then we get married_," she chanted, mostly to herself. He didn't reply. He just stood there, waiting for her to turn around and look at him, if only to tell him to go away. He wanted to see her again, to get lost in the light blue of her eyes one more time... To press her soft lips against his own lips...

Slowly, much too slowly for his liking, she turned around.

Her eyes –her beautiful eyes– were shinning with unshed tears but her whole face was positively glowing.

"You did it," she whispered softly, her face breaking into a huge grin. "You brought the King back," she said louder.

She brought her gaze up to his face and her bow fell to the floor as blue met green for the first time.

"Why you thought you had to _die_ for it is _completely _beyond me," she said, trying to keep her face straight and her breaths even. "As if it would have done any good for the King to come back if you hadn't been here to reclaim your place as..."

And that's about everything she got to say, because the next moment Robin had closed the space between them and had his arms firmly wrapped around her small frame.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer to him.

"Oh, Robin, I'm so happy!" she sobbed into his chest.

They stood in that embrace for a while, her tears soaking the front of his shirt while his mingled with her dark curls. When he felt she was slightly calmer he placed his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm's length.

"I love you, Marian," he said. This wasn't the first time he had said the words, but it was the first time he said them after coming back from the dead, which gave them a special meaning they had lacked before. "I love you more than life itself. I love you more than anything I ever had or could hope to have. You're the reason I get out of bed every morning –the reason why I came back from the brink of death. I love you and I want to spend each and every single day of the rest of my life with you."

She gave out another dry sob.

"I love you too, Robin. Always have –even when you were a brat who made my life hell. Even when you were seventeen and we were betrothed and you still went around town chasing after everything in a skirt. Even when you selfishly and foolishly chose war over me. I loved you when you were away and I especially loved you when you returned and got yourself outlawed. I cannot think of a single moment in my life when I have _not_ loved you."

He suddenly crashed his lips against hers.

They had kissed before, obviously. Different kinds of kisses as their relationship evolved.

At first, when they first got betrothed, they had been small pecks that he would steal from her when they were alone. They would usually end before she was fully aware of them beginning at all.

When he left for the Holy Land the first time they had shared their first real passionate kiss. She had been shouting at him and calling him names when suddenly he was before her and his lips were pressed tightly against her. For a moment she had completely yielded to that kiss before she realised that it was his way of saying goodbye. She had slapped him after that, and he had left.

During the five years he was gone, she would regret that slap more than anything she had said or done –or failed to say or do.

After his return they had gone back to the stolen kisses, only that they weren't the same as before. This time there was a certain urgency hidden behind their seemingly innocent pecks –some hidden meaning none of them was brave enough to mention out loud.

There had been passionate kisses too, especially during the brief period of time when she had lived in the forest with him. These too had changed over time. For one, they didn't end when she slapped him. In fact, they were pretty hard to terminate and more than once Marian had herself with her hands toying with Robin's belt buckle. He would smile cheekily at her then and step back, but she could always tell he had to make great efforts to do so.

This kiss, however, was different from any other kiss they had shared before. There was the innocence of their pure love, but also the urgency of those had been away for far too long as well as the fervour born from sheer desire. His hands travelled down her back before finally settling tightly around her waist and her own hands tousled his brownish hair. Suddenly Marian became _very _aware of the fact that her back was against the brick wall and every inch of Robin's body was pressed against hers. Surprisingly she didn't mind one bit.

It was Robin who pulled back, knowing full well the direction their kiss was taking. But it wasn't an easy task and he only managed to break the kiss and lean his forehead against hers.

"So I take you'll marry me now? Given that I've done what you asked of me, you know, I brought you the King back... How many of your friends can say their betrotheds have done that for them?" he joked, shooting her one of his signature cheeky grins.

She rolled her eyes at him, but she still couldn't stop smiling. "I suppose I may as well do. I doubt my prospects will be very good once word gets out that I'm the Nightwatchman. Men don't usually like a wife that can kick their ass in a fight."

He laughed. This was what he loved about their relationship.

"It's a good thing you've never bested me in a fight then."

"I will, some day," she promised, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Oh, I have no doubt you'll _try..._"

She shot him an angry glare.

"I _do_ love when you look at me in anger," he reminded her, causing her to smile a little bit. "And I _do _love _you_."

It was impossible to resist him when he talked like that –so softly, so fervently, so lovingly... Marian didn't really stand a chance.

"I love you too, Robin Hood," she admitted defeatedly.

Her words awoke a distant memory in him and he smiled a little bit.

"Speaking of which..."

"What?" she asked defensively, craning her neck so she could have a better look at his face. She knew that smile; it was Robin's _"You've Done Something Wrong And I Know About It And I'll Never Let You Live It Down" _smile. She hated that smile.

"_'I will never stop loving Robin Hood'_?" he quoted. "Did you really think it was a good idea to provoke Gisborne when he had a sword pointing at you?"

Marian frowned. She hadn't really expected him to bring this up right now, especially because he didn't really have a right to. She wasn't the only one who had ever come between Gisborne's sword and the King. If he expected her to apologise for what she had done, he was in for a big disappointment.

"You are one to talk. I suppose you two were talking about the weather when he stabbed you."

"He could have _killed _you, Marian!" he cried, taking a step back.

He was right, of course –that had been her original plan. Marian knew this, but no way was she going to admit to anything to him.

"As he could have killed _you_. Oh, wait, I forgot. _He did!_"

"He did not!"

"For all intended purposes _he_ _did_."

"It was different then!"

"How so? Gisborne was about to go after the King and I distracted him until help arrived. How is that any different than what _you_ did in the Holy Land?" she asked accusingly.

"It's not the same!"

"You're right! He _didn't_ stab me."

"Only because _I_ stopped him before he could!"

"If it hadn't been you, someone else would have!"

"You're impossible, Marian," Robin cried exasperatedly. "Every time I get remotely _close_ to have you back, you have to go and do something stupid. You'll be de death of me, I'm sure."

Oh, that was rich, coming from him.

"Really, you want to throw that card at me?" she said menacingly.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means that–"

"You two fighting again? Jeez, Maz, give the bloke a break!"

Robin chuckled and shot her a somewhat repentant look. Allan was right –it was far too early to be fighting. They would have all their lives for that.

"I'm sorry, master, I tried to keep them away for as long as possible, but they just had to come," Much blabbered as he followed Allan down the stone steps.

"He started it," Marian snorted, but she too was smiling as she watched the Outlaws coming their way.

"You look different," Allan commented when he was before his newly resuscitated leader. "Did you do anything different to your hair? No? Then it's probably just the lack of blood oozing from your stomach."

Robin rolled his eyes.

"I missed you too, Allan."

"You scared the crap out of us," Allan whispered as he embraced his friend tightly. "Don't do that again."

"I won't. I promise."

John stepped forward next and enveloped Robin in a bone-crashing hug.

"It's good to have you back," he stated.

"It's good to _be_ back."

He was then reintroduced to Kate –who nodded her head politely, a little embarrassed of being in the presence of a legend such as Robin– and Luke –who gave him a slightly awkward hug. Djaq checked his bandages –and complained at him for being up and about as she did so– before declaring that he was allowed to stay up, as long as he didn't excessively tire himself.

"I'm not being funny, but what do we do now?" Allan asked after some time.

"We go talk to the King," Marian replied before anyone.

"And why would we need to talk to the King?" Robin wondered suspiciously.

Marian flashed him a smile before answering.

"Because, Robin, we are going to need someone to perform the ceremony if we hope to get married, don't we?"

"Married, already?" he shot her one of his signature grins. "Are you that desperate to begin your life with me?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Not exactly. It's just that I've already agreed to marry you twice and both times you ended up on your way to the Holy Land shortly thereafter. I don't want to take any chances this time."

She kissed him lightly on the lips and Robin very nearly growled when she pulled away.

"Very well then," he said a little breathlessly. "Come on, lads. Let's go talk to the King!"

* * *

><strong>A little thing about Robin's eyes. I've always seen Jonas's eyes as that colour that is neither green nor blue, rather a mix of the two. I'm choosing to refer to them as green because there are too many people with blue eyes on the show. I hope that clears things. <strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Say what you will about me, but I keep my promises. I said I would be done with this before 2014 was over, and I _am_! Be proud of me, people!**

**I don't want to write an exceedingly long author's note because this chapter is so short, but I really, _really _want to thank each and every one of those who took the time to read and review this story. Never in a million years would I have thought that I would ever get this response to any of my stories, specially after being away from fanfiction for years. Most of you have been so sweet and so kind to me that I've often found myself with tears in my eyes as I read your reviews and messages, so thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Gracias.**

**I'm not going to make any promises about what I will write next because that hasn't work out in the past. All I can say is that I will _try_ my hardest to remain in the fandom. I have a few ideas, including an outtake from this very story. I will also _try_ to write something for all the Guy fan's out there. Let me be clear, though: I will _always _ship Marian with Robin, so if you expect any different from me, you're in for a big disappointment. But I agree that Guy didn't get nearly enough attention in this story, so I might write something where he has a bigger role. Might.**

**I hope you all have a good night tonight and that your 2015 starts has the best of starts. I hope to cross paths with you again soon!**

**Love you all,**

**Mariana.**

* * *

><p><strong>PART X – EPILOGUE<strong>

There should be no doubt regarding the events that came next.

Robin and Marian talked with the King, who readily agreed to marry them as soon as they liked. He also pardoned Robin and his whole gang for all their alleged crimes against the King on the spot and promised Lady Marian he would see that Knighton was restored to its former glory as soon as possible.

It was arranged then that the wedding would take place in a week's time. That would give the King enough time to deal with some business back at Nottingham and the rest of them to reacquaintance themselves with life the commodities of a proper home.

They departed to Locksley shortly thereafter.

It seemed as if the whole village was waiting for them, as well as some people from other villages around the shire. Robin quickly explained the events of the past few days to them and announced his imminent wedding to Lady Marian in just a few more days. The news was received with great joy amongst the townspeople, who clapped and cheered for some time. Amongst those most excited was Thorton, the old butler back at Locksley manor, who could barely contain his tears as he hugged each former Outlaw tightly –even Much, who he had never been a fan of.

Kate was allowed to return to her mother's house, much to both women's delight. Little John reclaimed his old house while Luke, Will and Djaq took possession of the Scarlett's old lodgings. Allan refused Robin's invitation to stay with him and asked instead if he would be allowed to stay back at the camp –at least for a few days until he could figure out what to do with his newfound freedom. Much and Allan stayed at the manor as guests, the former until he could come in possession of the lands Robin had promised him and the later until she could start calling the place her own.

The week passed relatively quickly for everyone but Robin.

After that first day back at the castle, Djaq went back to her overly-cautious ways and instructed Robin to remain in bed for most of the day. Had it been just her, he probably would have been able to strike some kind of deal, but as soon as Much heard, he made it his mission to make sure Robin obeyed. Fortunately, though, he had Marian, who would lay with him for hours, sometimes reading to him, others talking to him or sometimes in comfortable silence.

When the day finally arrived for the wedding, Robin was as excited to be marrying the girl of his dreams as he was of finally being able to be out of the house.

The ceremony was beautiful. People came from all over the shire to celebrate the union of two of their favourite heroes. The King performed the service; John walked Marian down the aisle. Much cried –which wasn't surprising at all– and Allan cried –which was only a little bit surprising. The bride and groom exchanged vows and it was more perfect than any of them could have hoped for.

And that was it.

The King left for London the very next day, taking Vaisey with him to be trialled for his crimes.

Everyone settled back into their lives, though they never forgot their mission. Neither Lord nor Lady Locksley allowed their peasants to go hungry again, though they never felt the need to resort to hoods and masks for that.

And thus concludes the tale of the Outlaws as such. That isn't to say there weren't any more adventures waiting for them, for there certainly were. They all lived long and full lives, full of exciting activities and friendship. They eventually returned to Sherwood, too, after King Richard passed away. But that, I'm afraid, is a tale for another time.

**THE END**

* * *

><p><strong>I won't be able to reply to your reviews and messages for two weeks, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't send them to me. I will love to hear from you when I get home and I promise to get back to all.<strong>

**Oh, and one more thing! The full length of this story ended up being 42 183 words -90 pages on Microsoft Word. Unbelievable! I had never written anything half this long before.**


End file.
